Sundials
by Light My Words
Summary: All hours wound; the last one kills. That had been Maura's sundial motto, the mantra of a victim. That was until Jane had come into her life with a saviour complex, and she'd had to think of a new one.
1. I

Title: **Sundials**

Category: TV Shows » Rizzoli Isles

Author: Light My Words

Language: English, Rating: Fiction Rated: T

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Summary: All hours wound, the last one kills. That had been Maura's sundial motto, until Jane had come into her life and she had to think of a new one.

 **Authors Note:** Trigger warning for domestic violence.

* * *

Before we had clocks, we had sundials. Did you know that archaeological records indicate that ancient Egyptian astronomers were building sundials? She'd found a book that told her so, when she was ten years old and lonely. It was tucked away in the expanse of her father's library, gathering dust as if the years had rendered it unnecessary, much like they had for the objects the pages were dedicated to. Something about the concept of watching the sun cast a shadow, over what could essentially be just a stick in the ground seemed romantic to her, standing and witnessing the complexity of the Earth's rotation and seeing the grains of time slip through the cracks in between her small fingers. It's so much less abstracted than a clock, she'd thought, pure and clean and a step closer to the basis of time itself.

They bear mottoes that reflect on the transience of the world and the inevitability of death, that reflect the sentiments of the sundial makers themselves.

 _'Take the gifts of this hour, it's later than you think'_ and ' _Make haste, but slowly'_ and _'Thus passes a lifetime'._ Her ten year old self had spent a long time pondering over the general _memento mori_ attitude of a lot of these mottoes, wondered if the makers of these time tellers were all burdened with a gift so heavy that their outlook on life was tedious and bleak. Sundials are not like clocks, they're not composed of hundreds of tiny little pieces that are required to interact with each other precisely, they're composed of a flat plate and a gnomon and a complex understanding of the Earth's axis. She'd finished the book in a day, and then she'd practiced making her own. With an aptitude for anything mathematical, it hadn't taken her long and inability had only reared its fickle head when it was time to dedicate the sundial a reflection of her own sentiments.

 _Omnes vulnerant, ultima necat_. She'd seen it on a vertical sundial on an old Apothecary building, in a small East Bohemia town in Czech Republic, and if she were to revisit the sundial she had made as a child; that would be her engraved contribution. _All hours wound; the last one kills._

* * *

It all began on a summer's night, like so many things seem to. The air was heavy and warm, the rustling breeze providing little respite from the recently set sun and she had been _just_ about to clock off when the call came in over the radio. A rookie Jane Rizzoli grumbled, forcefully brushing unruly dark curls over her shoulder to dry the beads of sweat forming on the back of her neck. The visual of a beer bottle wet with condensation was disappearing quickly from the forefront of her mind as the radio crackled with a dispatcher's voice. "Echo-five, we have a family disturbance in Dover, Norfolk County, two-D to respond."

She didn't _want_ to respond; family disturbances left her stomach crawling. But she held the receiver in her hand and held down the little button as she replied in the affirmative. They were ten minutes out.

The estate sat on at _least_ three acres she'd thought as she pulled the police cruiser up around the curved driveway. They'd passed through iron gates that appeared to be there more for aesthetic than security purposes and had watched as a multi-level front garden, complete with manicured hedges and lantern lit red-brick pathways, rolled past their windows. Officer Learey let out a low whistle bedside her and Jane reserved the urge to give the mother of all eye rolls as she pulled to a stop and killed the engine. He was a lifetime patrol cop, rounding stomach that threatened to bust more buttons than criminals and a receding hairline.

Most of the visible windows were bathed in a warm yellow glow, all twenty-four of them she'd counted and the only thing obscuring her view any further were the near transparent white drapes. "Lets get this out of the way so we can clock off," her partner grumbled. "They probably had a fight because one of them opened the wrong bottle of fifty year old wine."

Jane scoffed despite herself and took the wide steps two at a time until she was in a position to ring the doorbell.

Behind the heavy wooden barricade there was silence, and if the whole house hadn't been lit like a damn Christmas tree, Jane would have been inclined to turn back toward the cruiser and call it a day. It was hot out and the beads of sweat were forming again under her shirt between her shoulder blades. Finger poised over the button, she was ready to press again when the front door – antique knocker and all – swung in on its hinges. The man before her was white, in his late twenties and undeniably handsome. Short brown hair was swept back from his face and despite the heat; he wore a striped cornflower blue button up and taupe slacks. Charming smile pulled at hazel eyes, jawline chiselled from stone and speckled with stubble.

"Can I help you, officers?" He asked, voice calm and words enunciated clearly. _Not drunk_ , Jane thought, _or doing a tremendous job of disguising it_. Jane's voice was a little rougher than his when she spoke, making obvious their being from different sides of the proverbial track. "I'm officer Rizzoli, and this is my partner, officer Learey. We had a disturbance called in for this address, Mister––?" It didn't throw him, just stretched his smile to show a row of immaculate pearl white teeth. " _Oh_ , please excuse me, I've apparently forgotten my manners. I'm Garrett Fairfield and I'm awfully sorry to say, I think it must have been a prank call. There have been no disturbances here that I'm aware of." His words were followed with a harmless shrug and a smile that apologised for the waste of their time.

She'd almost believed him, until over his shoulder she spotted a woman as impeccably dressed as he, clutching a compress to her cheek. The two women made eye contact and it seemed to startle the honey blonde, curls bubbling across her shoulders as she shook her head in panic. _Please don't_ , it screamed silently. Clearing deep brown orbs of any suspicion, Jane smiled in return and made a point of sighing. "It's happening a lot around here lately, damn kids have nothing better to do with their time. If you don't mind Mr. Fairfield, I'll leave my partner here to ask you a few questions, just for the report, if I may borrow your restroom? We were ready to clock off when we got the call." Jane managed a sheepish smile and didn't spare a second in stepping through the narrow space between his body and the doorframe, unwilling to allow him to decline her request. He didn't miss a beat however, turning to gesture straight ahead. "Of course, Officer Rizzoli. It's the third door on the right, straight ahead."

Her head bowed in thanks, tangles of brunette curls falling over her shoulder as she watched Garrett Fairfield return his focus to her partner. The foyer that she'd stepped into was large, tiled with a creamy Italian marble and decorated tastefully with a stand-alone vase filled with white roses that tickled her nose, and a great curving staircase to the right of the room. The space was well lit by a crystal chandelier that hung low and emitted a softened yellow glow and further down the hall, doors left slightly ajar revealed an office of sorts and a bedroom that looked like it had never been utilised. Jane found the bathroom and opened the door quietly, but loud enough to make the sound to suggest she was in fact there to use their facilities. Closing the door in much the same manner, the brunette took her steps silently in the opposite direction, down a long hall to the left of the foyer. The house was a maze of semi-exposed rooms, a sitting area with two long sofas framing an open fireplace, a formal dining area that sat at least twelve, and another unused bedroom. The corridor at last opened up into a living area, lower than the rest of the house by two steps and lit by the crackle of dancing fire and dimmed lights that ran across the exposed beams in the roof. She almost missed the other woman as carob orbs searched the room before landing on the back of a leather chesterfield. The drapes on the bay windows were open, granting Jane a view of the expansive back garden and smooth dark water of the pool. Her view was obstructed when the other woman stood and, already mid sentence, she'd frozen when her eyes met Jane's.

"Garrett, I didn't call them, I––" The smaller woman silenced and Jane finally got a closer look at her. She was thin, limbs long and lithe but in a way that still left her a head closer to the ground than Jane. Her eyes were shaped like almonds but twinkled with tears that almost obscured the moss green, speckled with golden earth. Her hair was long, curled down her back in waves of honey and cinnamon, and her face a moment before contorted with fear, now neutral and cautious. "I-I'm sorry, I thought you were my husband," a beat and then: "I'm Maura… Fairfield–although I suppose that's now obvious… can I help you find something?" Her lips were pursed and she'd since abandoned the cold compress that now dangled from her fingers. Jane cleared her throat and stepped further into the living room, watching as Maura mimicked her movements by taking a subtle step backward. She had on a dress that fell to her knees and hugged the curves of her frame, a deep teal in colour. Jane thought it complimented the soft caramel glow of her skin.

"I'm Officer Rizzoli–Jane, I'm Jane. We were called about a disturbance and I couldn't help but notice that it looks like you've taken a nasty hit to the cheek?" She phrases it a question, sure to keep any accusatory tones from her voice but the bruises developing on Maura's cheek were unavoidable. The red, quickly transforming blue in the dull light of the den framed the side of her eye and ran down to contour her cheekbone. A frown pinched manicured brows together but released them moments later with a flash of pain.

"Yes–I appear to have sustained some damage to the right side of my face, particularly my zygotmatic and temporal regions. I believe it was a wall… but there are no fractures, just a possible concussion. I'm–I'm fine." Maura's voice was sweet and soft as she systematically listed her wounds as if she were talking about someone else entirely. Jane blinked back, presuming from the clinical detachment in her tone that this certainly wasn't the first time she'd come into contact with 'a wall'.

Jane glanced over her shoulder before informing the other woman that she'd be happy to escort her to the hospital, away from her husband, to be checked over by a doctor. Maura shook her head but was polite in her decline. "That won't be necessary, I am a doctor… well an intern technically, but I'll be alright. Honestly, you can go, I'm sure there's more important things for you to attend and I don't want to waste your time. Everything here is fine." Her words were accompanied by a brief smile that Jane wasn't buying into.

"From where I'm standing," she'd almost referred to her by her surname, but thought better of it given the circumstances. "From where I'm standing Maura, it looks like maybe your husband has hit you? I can take you somewhere safe, this isn't a situation you are locked in to." The brunette tried for her softest tone, although the sympathy she didn't have to muster–it was already there in abundance.

"That won't be necessary, Officer Rizzoli, I'm where I want to be." There was a subtle break in her voice that suggested otherwise. "I've got things to get back to, but thank you greatly for your service and concern." She turned and walked toward one of the ceiling tall bookcases, caramel curls swaying with her movement and Jane supposed that it was meant to signal the end of their interaction. She also heard a shift in conversation in the two men she'd left in the foyer.

Long fingers reached out and touched Maura's shoulder as she uttered a _'wait'_ to the other woman. The blonde flinched beneath her feather light touch. In her messy scrawl, Jane scribbled her name and contact number on a page in her palm-sized notepad and ripped the page from its binding. She folded it before tucking it into the palm of a woman with surprise decorating her beautiful but marked face. "If it happens again, or if you just need to get out, you call this number, any time, day or night. Okay?"

All Maura did was nod, tucking the sliver of paper into the pocket of her dress before returning to the pages of the book she'd dislodged from the bookcase. If Jane had stayed a moment longer, she would have seen a few rare tears spill from the eyes of Maura Fairfield.


	2. II

**Authors Note:** My return to fanfiction has been a long time coming, it's lovely to be welcomed back so warmly. Thank you to those who took the time to review, my muse appreciates it.

* * *

The first time her phone had buzzed with the unfamiliar number, it had been five weeks after the call out to Dover. She'd been on her usual evening run around the Charles River Loop, two miles in when it vibrated against the strap on her arm and she'd almost ignored it. The past few days had been particularly gruelling and her nighttime ritual required the familiar sensation of burning lungs and beads of sweat dripping down the column of her spine for sleep to be a possibility. There was something in the back of her mind that lit a fire and ignited her desire to answer the call. Maura's voice on the other line was strained, as if she were trying to reinforce the dam of her composure to stop it from bursting.

"I'm so sorry, I-I don't even know why I called." She'd said, voice soft and smooth as silk, and teetering on breaking point. Jane stopped in her track, braced a hand on her knee for a moment and took in a few silent but deep breaths. It took her a beat to realise who was on the other end of the line.

"Maura– _Maura_ , hey, it's okay. I'm glad you called, are you hurt? Where are you?" Jane had attempted not to bombard the poor woman with questions, but said attempt had evidently been in vain. While she'd only met the woman once and generally had an overall distaste for people that lived in a world of extravagance like Maura seemed to, she'd seen something in her. Perhaps it was the bruises and the imbedded sense of fear that had Jane realising that, despite all of her wealth, life hadn't been kind to her either. As horrible as it was to admit, and as sure as she was that she'd never voice the thought, it was almost soothing to see that there was mud behind such a porcelain clean facade.

"He-ah, he got so _angry_. I'm still at home–he wouldn't let me leave, _won't_ let me leave… he's taken my keys." Jane could hear the shakiness in her voice; the threat of tears and her brows drew together in frustration.

"Are you hurt, Maura?" It leaves her mouth gently, despite the irritation that what she'd seen that night in Dover hadn't been the last time this woman would see such violence. As soothing as that mud seemed, it was anything but to see the aftermath of the filth.

There was a long pause, long enough that it left Jane wondering if the other woman was even still on the line. "I… _yes_ ," it came out so softly that she barely heard it the first time. "He twisted my arm behind my back and… It's a complete dislocation in my elbow, and my radial head is most likely fractured, possibly a type two fracture."

 _She's doing it again,_ Jane thought, _diagnosing herself like she's talking about someone else entirely._ It was unsettling to say the least, to hear someone disregard herself in that way. Rather than voicing her thoughts, the brunette told her to stay put. "I've just got to run back to my car, and then I'll be there, okay? We'll go to the hospital."

Rather than a decline at her statement, Maura came back moments later with, "it can't be Mass General, it can't be where I work. No one can know."

When Jane had pulled her car up around the winding driveway, she'd done so with equal amounts ferocity and caution. She'd come armed, even though she was off the clock and entirely unsure of what to be expecting, and out of the many scenarios her mind had concocted, what she was met with didn't resemble a single one of them. The woman she remembered distinctly from that night was standing on her own stoop, shoulders hunched and honey curls pulled back into a high ponytail. She had on another dress, a soft yellow that stopped at her knee and pulled in at her waist, fitting her like she'd been sown into the damn thing that morning, and it was paired with tan heels that looked like they'd be more a balancing act for Jane than footwear. Her right arm was resting against her body at a 90-degree angle, wrist held delicately in her left hand and the brunette could _see_ the dislocation from her place in the car. It had the ferocity bubble up past the caution, amplified ten-fold at the sight of a line of still oozing red that dribbled from a place near her hairline.

Wisely, she closed the car door quietly behind herself regardless. "Maura," it came out more of a sigh than a declaration and the blonde flinched at the sound of pity in Jane's tone. " _God_ , come on, lets get you to the hospital." Even one armed and no doubt dizzy from the head wound, Jane watched in astonishment as Maura took the stairs with grace and made it to the car without crumbling. She held the passenger door open for the shorter woman and took a subtle look over her shoulder, a move Maura didn't miss.

"It's alright, Garrett left thirty minutes ago, with my keys." Jane had hummed her response as she shut the door behind the blonde and Maura waited until the engine had been kick started – privately she thought it might have actually _been_ kicked, because it made a noise she'd never heard from a car – before speaking again. "I'd appreciate it if we could avoid Massachusetts General… I'd prefer not to see any of my colleagues, if that's alright." The latter part of her sentence had been laced with shame and guilt, and the quiet anger bubbled back up in the hollow of Jane's chest at the sound.

Saint Vincent Hospital was 38 miles away, a drive that took them almost an hour on the I-90. They'd bounced between silence in which the brunette could almost feel the pain radiate from her passenger, and a quiet conversation where she heard that they'd been married for almost three years and he hadn't been this way before they'd said their vows. There had been warning signs that Maura had apparently missed, but she'd been so blinded by the interest and approval her parents had begun showing in her, that she'd missed them. She still was blinded by it, Jane had decided, because every gentle suggestion that she leave him was met with an _"oh, I can't do that,"_ or an _"it's not that bad–he's not always like this."_ It was unsettling to talk to such an intelligent person, someone likely leaps and bounds above the majority of society, and listen to them rationalise abuse and fractured bones as if it _were_ a small argument over the wrong bottle of vintage wine being opened.

The conversation hadn't stayed on Maura's circumstances long though, the blonde was decidedly well versed in pleasantries because she'd managed to drag out of Jane a great many details regarding her life. Jane had found herself telling Maura about Ma, Frankie and Tommy and even a little regarding Frank Snr too. She'd touched on her reasons for joining the force and why she'd had to decline her offer to BCU, which her passenger had declared as an awful shame because she seemed a great deal smarter than she apparently gave herself credit for. It hadn't been an hour of painful silence and uncomfortable pauses, but of soft conversation that paused only when a shot of pain rendered Maura silent. The first ten minutes had primarily been Jane reminding Maura that she could address her by her given name as opposed to 'Officer Rizzoli'.

Had it not have been for the circumstances, Jane thought she may have even enjoyed herself.

When they arrived at the hospital, Jane had parked the car and opened her own door in time with the honey blonde. Maura seemed taken aback at Jane's move to follow her into the emergency room and manicured brows pulled together in something resembling confusion. Confusion that anyone should care enough to take her in, a realisation that sent a pang of despair through Jane. "Oh, you don't have to accompany me in. I can't possibly impose on you any more than I already have." Maura had uttered in surprise, when she'd heard Jane's car door slam closed after her own had clicked into place. Jane simply smiled, hovered an open hand over the doctor's lower back and escorted her toward the glass doors of the hospital.

"I'm your ride, Maura. Of course I'm coming in." Jane decided to leave out the part where said ride would _not_ be including a stop back to Maura's home and her abusive husband when they were granted leave from the hospital.


	3. III

**Authors Note:** I apologise for the delay, but would also like to pass the blame onto polotiz, whose story _Prometheus_ has kept be thoroughly distracted for the past week.

I would also like to clarify that this will be an eventual Rizzles story, and apologise in advance as my muse loves the angst.

 **Trigger Warning:** Domestic abuse, it's a very serious issue and I'll try my best to write the matter with as much empathy and dignity as possible. Anyone that is in trouble or knows someone who is, please contact your local domestic abuse hotline and receive the aid you deserve.

Thank you as always, to the kind people who review and feed my muse.

* * *

 _"I told you to stay away from him!" His voice rang with fury, hot breath laced with a strong bourbon that enveloped her and left her stomach crawling._

 _"He's my superior, Garrett! I can't just avoid him when I'm on his service!" Her argument sounded weak to her own ears, voice wavering with a reserved fear because she knew it was a mistake the second it passed her lips._

 _Sure enough, her retort did nothing more than fuel the proverbial fire. "If it's only work, why is he messaging you after hours, huh? I bet you love the attention, don't you Maura? You thrive on it–"_

 _"I'm a doctor. There is no such thing as after hours for me, you_ ** _know_** _that. Ian was simply updating me on a patient."_

 _"_ ** _Ian_** _now, is it?" His tone flickered like a switch, from raging anger to a bitterness that stung her ears and left her body preempting a metallic taste. That's when she realised she'd made her second mistake. It took him two long strides to be in her personal space and suddenly she was backed against the wall of their bedroom with his fingers a vice-like hold around her throat. The tightening grip restricted her breathing and she felt herself gasp as the quickening pace of her heart echoed in her ears. Her fingers grasped his forearms, manicured nails clawing at the skin there as her body ached for reprieve. Ached for oxygen._

 _Panic mingled with the blood thumping through her veins and became a part of her._

 _"Why do I constantly need to remind you whom you belong to? I will_ ** _not_** _continue to tolerate you making a_ ** _fool_** _of me." His voice was lower, rougher and his words were breathed into her face. His hands released her neck and in the moment it took her to take a deep inhale and squeeze her eyes shut to rid her vision of the dancing spots that obscured it, her husband had liberated her right hand from its place on his arm. He twisted it swiftly behind her back with a brutality reserved for pure rage, using it to twirl her on the spot like she was not but a puppet. Her forehead collided with the plaster of their bedroom wall, echoed a deep thud throughout the space, and she screamed in time with the faint pop of her elbow dislocating––_

She awoke with a start, the twin of the scream she'd remembered hearing evacuate her mouth involuntarily now lodged in her throat. Beads of sweat dampened the nape of her neck, blonde strands sticking to her skin and she flinched at the feeling of pain that jolting awake had caused. Startled by the feeling of a hand laid over her uninjured arm, Maura snatched it to her body protectively before her vision cleared enough for her to take in her surroundings. Jane Rizzoli, the police officer she had called in her moment of weakness, when she realised she had no one else to call or trust, stood dutifully beside her bed. A look of guilt mingled with surprise was etched into the pools of brown and Maura instinctively felt awful.

"You were having a nightmare and I didn't want you to make your elbow any worse, I'm sorry for freaking you out."

The fright lingered as she shook her head, her heart still pummelling her rib cage uncomfortably. "No, I'm sorry–It took me a moment to register my surroundings. How long have you been here?" Green eyes, speckled with gold, searched the stark hospital walls for a clock. 6.34PM, she'd slept through most of the day.

"I just clocked off, I thought I'd come check in on you, you know, make sure you hadn't gotten yourself kicked out for bossing the nursing staff around." Her lips quirked but now she seemed unsure of where she stood, Maura could see it in the faltering of her half-smile. Different to how freely their conversation how flowed last night on their drive.

She felt inherently guilty for that too, having never been wonderful at extended social interaction to begin with.

"I wasn't bossing the nursing staff around," to her own ears she sounded indignant, but it only served to tug at Jane's smile.

The brunette, who had since made herself comfortable in the chair beside her bed, scoffed. "I watched you correct him when he bought out your x-rays."

"He put them in the lightbox _upside down_."

The earlier sign of hesitation and uncertainty had vanished from Jane's face, which was now contorted with a smile that Maura found quite striking. It was the first time she allowed herself a quiet moment to study the woman who had driven her an hour to seek medical attention without really even knowing her, and then that same hour back again to make sure she was alright. Her hair was down, an abundance of inky curls that fell over her shoulders and trickled down her back, her cheekbones high and her body thin albeit anything but fragile. With the t-shirt she was wearing, Maura could see the definition in her arms, muscles that rippled subtly every time she readjusted herself in her seat.

"Yeah well, we can't all be geniuses." It was said with a smirk, one that comforted Maura in a way to which she was unaccustomed.

None of the women she worked with spoke to her with the ease that the brunette beside her seemed to. It wasn't something that bothered Maura, in fact a life time of being alone had grown her indifferent to the mundane of human interaction. _Your peers are not your friends, Maura – they are your competition_. It was her mothers voice that echoed in her ears, that reminded her throughout her childhood and well through medical school that those around her weren't vital to the stability of her mental health. Garrett hadn't really even been a friend, before the courting and the marriage and for her parents, it hadn't seemed an issue.

You don't need to be romanced and wooed, her mother had told her. You need someone of status and substance. Garrett had been that, of the esteemed Fairfield family and her parents had been simply delighted.

 _"I don't know how you managed it Maura, but Garrett is everything we had hoped for you." Her mother's voice was low and soft, dancing with the air of grace that the honey blonde had been captured by as a child._

 _"I'm unsure, mother. He doesn't seem to enjoy my company." Later, she'd chastised herself for the weakness in her voice._

 _"You don't need to be fawned over, think of it as a business transaction. You need to learn to be enough for yourself."_

She'd always wondered how she'd ever learn to be enough for herself, when she'd clearly never been enough for her mother. She was a painful cliche.

" _Maur?_ " The unfinished sound of her name pulled her from her reverie, a frown pulling at her brow and sending a twinge of pain through the recently stitched skin at her hairline. Jane had neglected the second syllable of her name but it hadn't seemed accidental and Maura didn't know what to take from it.

A doctor in the doorway cleared his throat. "Ms. Isles, I'm glad to find you awake."

She'd gone by her maiden name and neglected to mention her professional title. It meant her hospital stay wouldn't be covered by her insurance, but it also guaranteed anonymity – it made her invisible.

"Thank you, I'm feeling much better." Her tone was neutral and she shifted carefully in the bed, the sound of the chalk textured hospital gown audibly scraping against rough sheets.

"I'm glad to hear that. On a positive note, the radial head fracture appears to be minor, although I am recommending another overnight for observation." He spoke while flicking through the pages of the chart hooked over the edge of her bed. Blue eyes only glanced up when she spoke again, apparently enough to surprise him into some semblance of a bedside manner.

"I think I'd prefer to be discharged tonight, thank you." It also got Jane's attention because in her peripheral she watched dark curls flick over a narrow shoulder as a head snapped up.

"I'd strongly recommend against that," he countered, lowering the clipboard. "Complications––"

"I'm well aware of possible complications, and I understand what potential symptoms to look out for. If I notice anything concerning, I'll come right back."

 _Liar._ She felt her chest tingle with a light red.

"Okay, well I can't force you to stay, Ms. Isles. I'd like to emphasis my concern at your being discharged, but if you're sure I'll have the nurses bring in your discharge papers and a prescription for Percocet for the pain."

At her curt nod, he exited the room and the sound of his voice was replaced with a low hum from Jane.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Her question was laced with a subtle concern that Maura almost missed.

"I can't… be here any longer." There was a break in her sentence as a roll of pain stole her voice, caused by the move to dangle bare legs over the edge of her bed.

"They say that doctors make terrible patients," Jane muttered with a hint of amusement. "We can fill your script as we leave."

"No," the honey blonde was quick to answer, a shake of her head bouncing bed tussled curls. "I don't want it."

"But Maur––" There it was again, the use of only the first syllable of her name. She still failed to understand it and failure did not sit well with her.

"The primary drug in Percocet is oxycodone, and it has been found to be 1.5 times more potent than hydrocodone, the drug in Vicodin, when taken in equal doses. I cannot consciously go to work with that in my system, it would be reckless."

The look on Jane's face told her she didn't think she should be going to work at all.

* * *

On Maura's complete refusal to be hospitalised for a moment longer, Jane had made a refusal of her own –– one to drive Maura back to her home. It had required quick thinking on the part of the brunette though, because she also hadn't been willing to bring Maura back to her own home. She'd seen the extravagance that the doctor was clearly accustomed to living in, a concept that frankly Jane did _not_ understand and was also also suddenly opposed to making that lack of understanding clear to her companion. Her shoebox of an apartment – a generous term really – had been left in utter disarray like usual, the space too small for any form of true organisation. It didn't help that the shoebox's inhabitant _also_ didn't understand the concept of organisation. Honestly, she hadn't even tried when she'd gone home the previous night while Maura received the medical care she needed.

Instead, on Maura's resigned agreement, Jane drove toward the Four Seasons in Back Bay and by the time she'd pulled her disaster of a car to a stop out front, the honey blonde already had a reservation for a suite with public garden views. Maura began speaking as Jane had killed the engine, the rumbling ensuring that she only caught the other woman's words mid-sentence.

"–Inconvenience. Can I offer you dinner as reimbursement for your time and generosity?" She used her uninjured arm to gesture toward the hotel they were currently sitting in front of. "They do a nice 'Baked Fillet of Turbot', not that it's much, and not to assume you mightn't already have plans."

Jane allowed a sheepish grin to pass over her features. "I don't know what that is, but if they do burgers, I'm down."

The microscopic laugh that filtered through Maura's flushed lips was melodic. "I'm sure they'll be able to accommodate your request."

Dutifully, Jane followed her blonde companion through the hotel she never would have stepped foot in otherwise. It was extravagance on steroids, all shiny black tiles and weird drooping green plants arranged in pot stands of various sizes in the middle of the damn lobby. It wasn't until Jane helped the one-handed Maura slide the key card into the door of her room that she was truly blown away though. The Garden Suite that she'd booked had to be the size of Jane's entire apartment – scratch that, it was probably bigger – and the curtains were something out of Ma's fantasies she was sure, a rich gold with a splattering of charcoal floral.

Hands linked behind her back as she followed Maura into the suite, observing first the view of the gardens below and secondly, the view of the honey blonde currently perched on one of the creamy silk looking sofas. The conversation she knew she had to begin was tying knots in the pit of her stomach and was filling her with an unease almost as great as the one she got every time Maura flinched with movement.

It wasn't until the other woman had hazel eyes – yes, Jane had noted the distinct green and golden mix of colour the almond shaped eyes held while they'd sat opposite each other in emergency – focused on the room service menu, that she spoke.

"We need to talk about this Maura," her voice was softer than she ever remembered hearing it.

"Please, Jane." It was a silent plead, one that begged for an end to the conversation before it began. She didn't look up from the menu grasped in the dainty fingers of her uninjured hand.

"I know you've been through a lot, and trust me, I don't want to make it any worse. But there's a thing called mandatory arrest Maura… I _know_ he hurt you, it's my job to do something about it."

"I don't want to do this Jane–I don't _want_ to press charges."

"It… The state doesn't require you to press charges Maura. If an officer sees abuse, if _I_ see that he's hurt you, I'm obligated to arrest him."

"For mandatory arrest to be a viable option, you need to have probable cause to believe that the assault was committed within the previous four hours. I didn't call you straight away Jane… I don't want you to arrest him." As she spoke, earthy eyes met orbs of onyx and contained in them was an emotion Jane couldn't identify, and an assuredness that she'd thought thoroughly about this. Enough to understand the concept of mandatory arrest and skirt around its boundaries, she thought.

"He dislocated your elbow, Maura. And gave you a gash big enough that you needed stitches."

" _I know_. I'm not asking for you to ignore your duty as a police officer, I'm just asking for it to not happen right now." The pleading was back, but this time in the subtle tones of smooth caramel rather than in her eyes.

Jane sighed quietly, shoving long fingers into the confines of her pockets as she stepped closer to the sofa Maura was perched on. She was torn between emphasising her concern more than she already had, and allowing the woman to just breathe in her moment of reprieve. She decided on the latter as she moved to sit down beside the doctor.

"Alright, but you call me, okay? And not just if you're hurt and _not_ four hours later."

Maura merely nodded, although the soft smile that pulled at the corners of rosy lips was evident. "Okay," she agreed.

Leaning back on the surprisingly plush loveseat, Jane plucked the menu from Maura's hand and glared at it. "Okay–" she offered in agreement, before defined brows drew together. "Turkey burger, eugh!" She punctuated her remark with an exaggerated look of disgust.

"They're a healthier alternative to beef burgers. Turkey meat is far more lean." Maura added, although Jane thought it rather unhelpfully.

"Mm, no. What is a _halibut_? And vegetable succotash?" Her nose scrunched and her pronunciation was deliberately altered to emphasis the syllables; halibut pronounced clearly as hailey-butt. "Why is only half of this menu in English–you know what, never mind. I'll have the Bristol burger, oh _and_ the cookie plate."

This pulled a laugh from Maura's throat. "Do your eating habits always resemble those of a child's?"

"You know what, I'm taking offense to that." Jane feigned a grumble.

"And I'm taking that as a yes." Maura laughed as she dialled the number listed on the room service menu.

"Yeah, well you were the one who offered me dinner Maur."

This time, the nickname didn't resurrect the look of confusion in beautiful hazel eyes and Jane found a silent victory in that.


	4. IV

**Authors Note:** I don't like writing Maura and Garrett as a couple as much as you guys don't like reading it, but I think it's important for the plot. It won't be forever, I promise! This hasn't been beta'd, so all mistakes are mine and reviews are always appreciated.

* * *

The night she'd spent with Jane in her favourite suite of the Four Seasons had proved rather unsettling. There hadn't been a moment in her life, that she could recall, in which someone had taken such an innocent interest in her, enough to just sit and talk. When she'd sensed the complete disinterest Maura held in holding her husband accountable for the violent and volatile nature of his affections, she'd simply dropped the subject. The entire situation had left her with an initial unease which inevitably spun itself into an inner turmoil that had the beginnings of nausea twisting in her throat.

The nausea may also have been initiated by the pain that echoed from her elbow and the neat line of stitches by her hairline, but she was trying to ignore that.

Garrett's abuse had quickly become her one predictable factor, the unchanging and ever present element of her life and even though she never would have foreseen being a victim, she'd found a devastating peace in it, a kind of solace. It wasn't that she enjoyed the pain he inflicted or the fear that had now become innate – a _part_ of her – it was the consistency. She knew what lit the proverbial wick to the candle of his rage, understood what to skirt around and when to be submissive, and the alienation of her friends and family hadn't particularly bothered her as she'd never really _had_ any to begin with.

Maura knew the statistics. Every _nine seconds_ a woman in the United States was assaulted or beaten, one in three was subject to violence from an intimate partner and the death toll for domestic violence was almost double that of lost soldiers during the past eleven years of war in Afghanistan and Iraq. She understood that on average most women try to leave seven times before they're actually successful and that the chance of her life being cut short at the hands of the man who was supposed to love her was very real.

She understood, yes, but when Garrett sent his usual apologetic text message the following morning, Maura still found herself checking out early and catching a cab back to her home in Dover. There was a part of her that still loved him, a part of herself that she deeply despised because she was _smarter_ than that, should have been smart enough to recognise the symptoms of an explosive nature before it was too late.

She hadn't been though, and now it was a commitment. Maura didn't break commitments.

Garrett was waiting for her by the front door, having no doubt heard her cab pull up the long driveway. The way his eyes drifted over her frame and had the audacity to soften at the vision of her injured arm bound to her body in a sling, had bile rising up the column of her throat.

"Hey," he muttered softly, after she'd thanked the driver for his time and bid him farewell with a generous tip. He approached her like she were not but a wounded animal, and in a way, Maura supposed that's what she was. His hands, much larger than her own and quietly powerful, ran over the bare skin of her upper arms before moving behind her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. She went willingly of course, knowing better than to deny him even in the stage of guilt and something in the back of her mind chastised her quietly for being so weak.

"What's the prognosis?" His voice was gentle and laced with a sympathy that wasn't becoming, she thought.

"Complete dislocation of the elbow, and a fracture to the head of the radius." This time, Maura sidestepped him and began up the stairs toward their bedroom. He tailed behind her like a sorrowful puppy.

"I am so sorry, Maura. I don't know what I was thinking–actually I _wasn't_ thinking. You know how my mind gets when I feel I'm close to losing you. I didn't want to hurt you."The tone of his words held an element of pleading; for forgiveness, for understanding, for _compliancy_.

"It's fine." Her words were clipped, but not enough to ensure another outburst from the man behind her.

"No, darling, it's not. Hey," he took her hands in his own and she flinched instinctively. Garrett didn't appear to notice because he dropped one of her hands only to fill it with a small velvet box moments later. "I got you this, to apologise."

It was a round brilliant cut diamond, white and clean and set in a delicate six-claw setting. It hung from a dainty rose gold chain and it made Maura's stomach clench with disgust.

He was buying her body to use as a punching bag, and he was paying her in things she'd always loved – until that moment.

"Thank you," was all she could reply, in a voice so small that she managed to hide all the true feelings swimming behind it. He took the box from her open palm and used the nimble fingers that, only two nights ago had been used to obstruct her breathing, to clasp the chain around her neck.

"I have to go to work, Garrett." She muttered as a hand reached up to the soft skin of her décolletage to brush the pendant he'd placed there.

The nausea came back with a brute force.

* * *

Jane was only mildly surprised to find that Maura had checked out of the hotel room she'd left her in the night before, and less surprised when she didn't hear from her over the next week and a half. When her text message went unanswered, the brunette's mixture of concern and curiosity got the better of her, but she knew better than to show up at the estate in Dover. As charming as Garrett had been on their first and only encounter, Jane was no fool and she understood that the last thing Maura needed was for her husband to see or hear that she'd forged a friendship with a cop.

It meant the only sure way to capture a moment with the honey blonde to assess her physical state without the intrusion of her tormentor was at her place of work.

Massachusetts General Hospital was not somewhere Jane was stranger to, in fact she quietly thought between herself, Frankie and Tommy, she'd spent half of her life in the damn place. It had never seemed so bustling before though, so full of doctors and nurses who scattered like worker ants across the sterile floors, with codes being announced over the intercom that sent scrub fitted people in to a frenzy. The brunette had never really focused on that before, but now standing in the entrance to the emergency department in her uniform, it was almost overwhelming.

She had no idea how to find Maura, no idea what floor she worked on or with what specialty.

"Can I help you, officer?" A nurse stopped to ask, a woman that stood a near foot shorter than herself and looked like she'd been on the same shift for three days. There were loops of black under her eyes and a yawn that looked ready to pull at the corners of her mouth at any minute – although, it never did.

"Ah–yes… _Yes_ I'm looking for a Doctor Fairfield? …Maura Fairfield?" Why she'd made the presumption that everyone here knew of each other, Jane didn't know.

 _Clearly too much Grey's Anatomy_ , her mind chimed in unhelpfully.

To her surprise, the blonde nodded as she took a step to help her colleagues with the blood-soaked body being wheeled in on a stretcher. "You'll find her upstairs in Cardio, doing rounds with Doctor Faulkner." She tossed over her shoulder, nearly a shout over the chaos.

Credit where it was due, the nurse had directed Jane to the appropriate place, because within two minutes of stepping out of the elevator, brown eyes landed on the woman she'd spent her week contemplating and worrying about. Her arm was still nestled against her body, wrapped in a sling and her hair curled in an expertly way to disguise the line of stitches Jane knew to be there. Her posture was rigid and her composure impressively intact, the happenings of the previous week nowhere to be found in her expression and for a beat the brunette just stood there and observed.

Maura noticed her first, brows drawing together in confusion and Jane watched her excuse herself before making the journey down the corridor to where she stood – the _clink clink_ of her heels rhythmic on the linoleum.

"Jane?" Her name left Maura's mouth more a question than a greeting. "What're you doing here, are you alright?"

"Hey, Maur. Yeah… yeah I'm fine. I'm sorry to chase you down at work, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You never replied to my text." The latter part of her sentence came out quietly, and she was ashamed of the hidden trickle of weakness in her tone. Thankfully, it was one the doctor didn't appear to notice.

Maura's lips pulled into a gentle smile, one that could be easily missed by anyone not paying attention. "It's okay, and I'm alright. I've begun a few early motion exercises, although it's too early for physical therapy. It's a difficult dislocation to treat as it isn't very common. Statistically only thirteen in every one hundred, thousand people dislocate their elbow in a given year."

"You're just one of the lucky few, I guess. How're you managing with work?"

"I've been extremely limited in what I can do for the following few weeks while I get my full range of motion back. I believe I've been delegated what the interns refer to as 'grunge work'."

"I think you mean _grunt work_ , Maur." It was said with a smirk as she catalogued the subtle fatigue under the blonde's eyes. "When are you off?"

"Oh, yes I've been limited to the _grunt_ work. My shift ended approximately two hours ago, but I've been caught up."

Jane couldn't help replace 'caught up' with 'not wanting to go home' in her mind. "Oh, well I'm off duty… did you want to maybe grab a drink? There's a bar just around the corner, I think.'

The bar in question wasn't an establishment that the police officer would have stumbled in of her own accord. It was not even a half mile from the hospital, a two minute walk that took them almost ten because they'd had to stop in order to help Maura in to her jacket. The ground floor of the Liberty Hotel was all dark red brick and wrought iron bars, the artwork of choice being black and white celebrity mug-shot portraits and most of the inside seating a trendy mustard yellow. It was busy for a Thursday night, lighting low and most of the indoor booths filled with people quietly chatting while clutching glasses of variously shaded drinks. They decided to sit outside on the patio and Jane, unbeknownst to herself as to _why_ she was being so suddenly chivalrous, pulled out Maura's chair for her.

"That's the original blue stone flooring," the blonde commented once they were both seated. "And the brick cell walls, this establishment was once the Charles Street Jail. It explains the unique choice in artwork, I presume."

"Huh, weird… Think it's haunted?" Jane raised her brows with a conspiratorial smirk.

"Absolutely not, I don't conform to the belief of an afterlife or the concept of spirits being seperate entities. Do you?"

"Believe in the afterlife? Well yeah, I mean… I guess? Ma and Pop are both _very_ catholic. I was raised in it." Jane gave a non committal shrug, fingers peeling at the label on her bottle of beer. "Weren't your parents religious?"

Maura seemed to pause a moment, delicate index finger running around the rim of her wine glass. "I was adopted and both of my parents are professors. I was taught about many religions but… it was approached merely from a theoretical standpoint when I was a child."

Their conversation flowed as freely as their drinks – an hour in saw their small table a home to a collection of empty beer bottles, wine glasses and a plate of half eaten artichoke and prosciutto pizza. Jane had decided it her personal mission to draw as many smiles and unscripted laughs from her company's lips as possible, to which she found herself pleasantly succeeding at.

"I've never really had this kind of interaction before," Maura confessed on the tail of a chuckle. Jane's eyes softened, along with her own smile. "I think most women find me tedious and… Garrett doesn't respond well to the idea of me holding friendships."

"We're friends, are we? A little presumptuous of you, isn't it Doctor?" It was a joke, one that clearly soared well over the top of blonde curls.

"Oh, well you've prescribed me a nickname and–"

"I was kidding, Maur." Jane interrupted. "Of course we're friends. And Garrett shouldn't get to decide those things for you, friendships are important."

"I think I'm beginning to see that." Her voice was smaller with those words, and for the second time that night, Jane couldn't consciously explain her actions. Hands reached across the wooden table separating them, and took nimble hands into her own. Long thumbs brushed soothingly over the top of Maura's knuckles and the brunette was struck by how soft her skin was and how much her subtle flinch hurt.

"I know you don't want to talk about this, but you deserve better. Maur, love and marriage shouldn't come hand-in-hand with dislocated joints and stitches, it's not what it's supposed to be. You shouldn't be getting hurt."

"I know, Jane." Her words came out tied with a resignation that suggested a lost cause, but Jane Rizzoli was not about to acquiesce to that.


	5. V

**Authors Note:** Thank you for those who are still following. This hasn't been beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Reviews are appreciated, and as always spur my muse.

* * *

The impromptu offer of a drink that night at a bar just a block from the hospital had sparked a sort of unspoken tradition for the two women. Once a week, Maura would message Jane the day when her schedule was best suited for a nightcap – possibly also the evening her husband would be least likely to ask questions and Jane would happily oblige. There were weeks when the message would instead be a quiet apology and an explanation of how her work schedule just simply didn't allow for recreational time, and Jane understood that her absence those weeks were much more likely due to the volatile nature of her marriage. Such a theory was always reinforced the following week when Maura would reappear as if a broken vision, with expertly disguised bruises fading into a dull yellow and a smile that wasn't quite as bright.

She'd messaged last week to cancel, with the same excuse of a chaotic work week, and Jane's heart had sunk for two reasons. One being that she knew what was most likely keeping her from their night together, and secondly, that she could do very little to stop it.

Unlike most weeks when either Jane was the first to appear or they happened to both walk in with surprisingly similar timing, Maura was already seated when the brunette arrived. However, just like most weeks following a cancellation of their time together, Maura was littered with mostly hidden, fading-yellow bruises. Marks left by aggressive fingers primarily around her upper arm, Jane noted and terrifyingly, around her neck. The doctor had worn a scarf in, no doubt to hide them, but had apparently gotten rather hot as it now lay spread neatly over the back of her chair atop her coat. She was cradling a half empty martini glass and an expression that suggested being lost in thought, but her head snapped up when Jane took her seat and she smiled despite the subtle discomfort she was in.

"Jane," her name came out almost a sigh of relief, as if even after all these months she still expected the officer not to show. "I'm glad you could make it."

Jane shrugged off her own coat, noting with a soft smile the bottle of beer already open on the table. "You call – or rather message – and I come, that was the deal." Her tone was light to ensure Maura knew she was joking. "Work was hard last week?"

That had become another unspoken subtly of theirs – Jane asked her about work the weeks of her reappearance and they both knew she spoke of something else.

"Yes," Maura mumbled, choosing to finish the contents of her glass rather than elaborate. Jane didn't push.

"I have news… I was going to tell you last week, but things came up and I wanted to be able to tell you in person." Truthfully, she'd been nervous to mention it via text in case the blonde saw it as a goodbye of sorts.

"Oh? Well then, please do share."

"I got an offer from Vice… a promotion I guess, to detective." Modest as always, Jane shrugged and took a swig from her bottle. It was still cool, which given the heating in the bar, meant Maura hadn't been waiting long.

"Oh… _oh_ Jane! That's wonderful news, congratulations!" They'd discussed Jane's hopes of making detective and the news made Maura smile, and then saw it falter with the other woman's lack of enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it is." She conceded, against the rim of her beer bottle. Maura's brows drew together.

"You're not excited?" A subtle head tilt, Maura's tell for confusion.

"It just… It means my schedule might be a little more unpredictable… less, flexible I guess. Vice means I'm probably going to see a bit of undercover work."

The realisation dawned on Maura and she looked pained for a brief moment, before her composure covered it in a flash before Jane's eyes. "Oh."

"I don't want you to think this is me trying to shirk you… and I didn't want to not tell you and not be able to respond to your messages for, like, weeks at a time and leaving you feeling like I was ignoring you. I couldn't figure out the lesser of two evils. Because I'm not… shirking you, y'know? I like our time together."

"I understand, Jane. This is good news, this is good for you! It means you're one step closer to your goal, I'm proud of you." Her spoken words were soft and honest, but Jane could feel a diplomatic air to the blonde, as if she'd taken a small step back into herself. She was retreating again, slowly.

Jane was about to push, to stop the retreating, but she didn't get the chance.

Maura managed to steer the conversation towards Jane's family, of whom she loved to hear about. She'd only met one member, Frankie, one night when Jane had consumed too much alcohol to safely drive herself home and had wisely called her younger brother instead. He looked like his sister, dark hair and sun kissed skin, eyes of amber lit coal that softened with a smile. Handsome, but not classically so and his voice wasn't as chiselled and gravelly as his sisters. Maura decided she'd like the Rizzoli clan should she ever meet them, and while it left her wishing for such a boisterous and close-knit family herself, she hung on every word of Jane's hyperbolised stories about her mother, father and ' _two idiot brothers_ ' – as she affectionately referred them – without letting on how much it simultaneously hurt and made her joyous.

In contrast, Maura rarely spoke of her family and on the odd occasion that she couldn't simply sidestep Jane's probing, her stories hadn't been spoken in the same fond reminiscence of the brunette's. Her memories were mechanical, not sour per se but factual and to the point, as if she were remembering an instruction manual. Jane had noted it the first time the blonde had mentioned her mother, and had quickly decided that much like their adult lives, their childhoods had been vastly different. It was further made clear with Jane asked the question:

"Don't your parents care how he treats you? Do they even know?"

They found themselves on this course of conversation often after their third drink, when inhibition became looser, when Jane didn't feel so intrusive asking such person questions and Maura didn't feel so stiff and stifled by formality to answer.

"I didn't want to marry him, did you know?" Of course she wouldn't have, because they'd never spoken quite this frankly before, at least Maura hadn't. "I went to my mother with my doubts and she reminded me how childish it was to believe that marriage needed love to thrive."

Jane's expression drew into a frown. Confusion. "––What?"

"' _It's an ancient instituion'_ , she'd said, ' _one that was primarily a means of strategic alliance between families_.' I grew up reading Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters, I thought marriage was supposed to involve burning passion and weak-in-the-knees kind of love." She sighed, resigned again and finished the remnants of her third martini before continuing.

"I fantasise about leaving him sometimes, about finding somewhere safe, away from him. That I find someone I really _do_ love, man or woman, and that my parents are just joyed, you know… with seeing me loved."

"Man, _or_ woman?" Jane found herself caught on those three words and she missed the rest of Maura's sentence. The blonde nodded soberly.

"I think I could love a woman, with soft skin and gentle eyes, and a kind smile. I think I could marry a woman."

Jane thought perhaps she'd had too much to drink, because the words that left her mouth were ones she kept so closely guarded, she'd never dreamt of saying them aloud. "Me too, I think I could love a… a woman, too."

Maura's lips pulled at a soft smile and the recently dubbed detective's eyes took in the beauty before her. Earthy eyes and curls of gold, highlighted with cinnamon, and the soft hand that reached across the table to brush against hers.

"Maybe one day I'll get away from him, and maybe one day you'll find your woman to love."

"Yeah, _maybe_ ," Jane breathed, and that became their new word, their new subtlety and their new promise.

Maybe.

* * *

Jane broke tradition.

Three days after their night at the Alibi, Jane chanced a message – that toed over the line of enthusiastically casual – enquiring whether Maura was available for lunch. It had occurred to her, just after she'd pressed send that she was yet to see the woman outside the cover of night, and in the twenty minutes it took for the doctor to respond, she all but lost her mind with doubt. She'd grown comfortable in their friendship, but she'd quickly realised that comfort sat within the bounds of the traditions they'd forged together. This was new territory, lunch in the bright of day, and somehow she felt as if she were breaking something with the offer.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, just in time to put her mental break on hiatus. Maura had agreed to lunch, with the proviso that she be away from the hospital for no longer than an hour. Jane agreed, of course she did, and offered to meet her at the hospital cafeteria, or somewhere close by. Maura's reply came back instantly, with a terse ' _No_ ' followed seconds later with an ' _I'll come to you_ '.

That was how the pair ended up at the Division One Cafe at a little after one in the afternoon. When Maura walked in, Jane was struck once again with her beauty and the complete inability to comprehend the motivation behind how her husband treated her. Honey and cinnamon curls were nestled atop her head in a high pony tail, deep red was her colour, fitted snuggly around her frame and finishing at her knees, cloaked only by a warm looking beige cape. The _clink, clink_ of her heels on the linoleum garnered a few looks from the occupied tables of the café, but Maura seemed naive to the head turns she was responsible for.

Angela Rizzoli didn't miss a beat, circling the area behind the counter to deliver a plate of pancakes.

"Janie, I know you skipped breakfast today." A pause, as her eyes ran over her daughter's lunch companion. "I didn't know you'd have company… I'll grab the plate I made for Frankie, he won't mind waiting."

"Ma," Jane groaned, oblivious to the gentle smile it pulled to Maura's lips. "Pancakes, really? It's one in the afternoon. And no–no I don't think Maura wants pancakes for lunch."

"I don't mind, Jane." Hazel eyes turned to the older woman with a polite smile. "Mrs. Rizzoli, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ma, this is Maura. She's a doctor."

"Oh!" Angela bustled at the politeness of the blonde. "Please, call me Angela! I'll go grab you some lunch too."

Jane watched the retreating figure of her mother with an audible groan, picking up her fork to poke the bunny shaped pancake on her plate before dropping it again. "Sorry about her, god, _bunny pancakes_?"

"I think it's sweet," Maura offered with an expression somewhere between smirk and grin.

Over the course of lunch – bunny pancakes, a bowl of fruit, a latte for Maura and long black for Jane – the detective informed the doctor of the primary reason for their early catch up. She'd been given her first undercover assignment, a prostitution ring in which she was being thrown in the middle of, without a suggestion as to how long she'd be gone. Maura listened dutifully, nodding with a hidden spill of sadness behind topaz speckled eyes. At the end of their designated hour, the blonde apologised as she stood, for cutting their time together short.

"It's okay Maur, your work is important." Jane stood too, leaving half a bunny pancake on her plate. She was glad Maura made the first move, because she didn't know quite where or how to leave it.

Angela watched quietly from behind the coffee machine as this blonde woman – Maura – leant over and placed a gentle kiss on her daughter's cheek. It wasn't romantic or suggestive, but it was the first time her tomboy of a daughter allowed any form of affection – welcomed it, even.

"Please be careful," Maura had muttered, quietly enough that only Jane could hear. "And message me when you're back, so I know you're safe and in good health." A manicured hand ran up the length of Jane's arm and back down, before falling to her side.

"I will, I promise."

Maura turned and left first.


	6. VI

**Authors Note:** I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday! I promise that the end to Garrett and Maura is in sight now, and I thank you all for sticking around. This hasn't been beta'd and 90% of it was written on a long car drive with my two children, so I apologise in advance. Reviews are as always, greatly appreciated and very productive for that muse of mine.

* * *

Maura Isles: 6:24AM ' _Jane, I know you can't reply and that you may not even see this; I hope you don't, in a way. I found out this morning that I'm pregnant, and I wanted you to be the first person I told. I don't know why, but I think it's helped make this nightmare all feel real. I don't know if I want it to feel real though. I hope you're safe - M'_

Jane had been undercover for two months, one week and four days when she received the message that made her question her career choice for the first time in her professional life. And as much as she yearned to; burned with unanswered questions and the need to know Maura was safe, she couldn't reply.

Maura on the other hand had been quietly thankful that said news couldn't be divulged in person. She'd spent the better part of an hour devising the text message and had it still been the day of hand written letters, she was sure her desk would be a mess of failures – scrunched up balls of paper with half written paragraphs detailing the news in different ways. The doctor wasn't quite sure she'd manage to get the words from her mouth if Jane had been seated opposite her, with those inquisitive and imploring chestnut brown eyes.

It hadn't been any easier the following day, when she hadn't heard back from Jane and she'd found herself cornered, for lack of a better term, in the on-call room with Ian blocking the only exit. He stood a great deal taller than her, even given the advantage of her Jimmy Choo's and his wide shoulders left no room to wiggle out of their impending conversation, and consequently, the small box of a room. His eyes were a lighter shade of brown than Jane's, a tawny to her umber and right now said orbs were tracing her stature as if waiting for something.

He appeared to be struggling with a pre-organised speech.

She'd worn a silk button up shirt, a deep plum colour that cuffed at her wrists and whose tails were tucked into pale grey wide legged slacks. Uncomfortable under his roaming gaze, small hands tucked into the pockets of her white coat and pulled it further around herself. The movement appeared to be enough to untwist his words from his throat.

"Maura," he already held a tone of defeat as he pulled the door, and her hope of escape, closed firmly behind him.

"Ian, please don't." It seemed important to deter him, although from what she wasn't entirely sure.

"No, Maura. I can't hold my tongue any longer without compromising my conscience." His Australian drawl was stronger now that his words were laced with emotion, and she remembered vividly how attractive she'd found it the first time they'd met.

"I don't know to what you're referring."

"I'm not blind, Maura. I thought at first I was just being respectful, of your privacy and our professional relationship. But I'd consider us friends now, and it feels reckless not to ask."

"To ask what, Ian?" Terse. Like he was peeling back the seal on a closely guarded secret and she was working to stick it back down.

"Even though you try to hide them, I see the bruises, Maura… is Garrett hitting you?"

 _Hitting, shoving, choking_. Last week he'd been holding a knife, half way through slicing a head of cauliflower when he'd seen fit to threaten her. She'd thought he was going to slit her throat, before he dropped it.

Ian took her silence as an indication that he should continue. "I think I already know the answer, please don't feel as if you have to deny it because we work together. There are actions we can take to get you out, to keep him away from you."

 _Out and into your arms_ , she thought. It was an idea that, up until a few months ago, she may have secretly delighted in. "I don't want to have this conversation, here of all places, Ian. I'm fine, my marriage is fine, everything is just _fine_."

"Maura, please. I want to help." His voice was pleading, which only further heated her frustration.

"Stop Ian, please just stop! I don't know why everyone feels the need to offer me help or a 'way out' all of a sudden, but I'm an adult. If I wanted to leave I would, but I'm _fine_." It was the first time in a long while that she'd raised her voice above a normal speaking volume and she instantly regretted allowing her emotions get the better of her.

"Maura, it's being offered because you're not in a safe place and you deserve to be." His voice is softer, the Australian twang deepening his voice and Maura calms slightly with the caring gaze of warm brown eyes. Those of a friend.

"I'm pregnant, Ian." She paused to allow the realisation to pass across his features. A buzz from the small pager in her pocket caught her attention, the green backlight illuminating the words:

 _* TRAUMA ALERT - Level 1 Age 53 Mech. fall ETA 5 min._

It couldn't have been more ideal timing. Her heels clicked on the linoleum as she moved to pass him. "I'm sorry, I have to be downstairs. Thank you, for caring Ian. It's unnecessary though, I'm alright."

A breath evacuated her lungs the moment she stepped into the corridor.

* * *

It took Jane's team a further month to close the investigation successfully. A further twenty six days which ensured that the detective missed Christmas and no doubt countless opportunities to ascertain whether the doctor she had come to think rather highly of, was alright. The knowledge of Maura's pregnancy came as a shock, primarily because she'd presumed given the nature of their marriage, that they hadn't been in the habit of making love. It was a naive thought, a silent prayer of Jane's that the abuse Garrett Fairfield inflicted on his wife stopped before that point. It was a hope that she'd found solace in until she'd received the text message she couldn't reply to, and the understanding of just how terribly lonely and frightening her friends life must have been, finally hit her.

Like a boulder of emotion.

As per Maura's instruction, Jane had sent her a text message the second she'd arrived home and showered long enough to wash away the remnants of the person she'd spent three months embodying. It took twenty nine hours and forty one minutes for a reply to send her phone near dancing off the kitchen counter and in her eagerness to view the message, she knocked the vibrating communication device to the floor with a thud.

Maura Isles: 9:18PM ' _I'm so relieved that you're alright. Thank you for letting me know.'_

Jane contemplated her response for a moment, having realised that the doctor wouldn't know whether or not her previous message had been seen.

Jane Rizzoli: 9:19PM ' _Of course, I did promise. Are you at work?'_

Maura Isles: 9:19PM ' _I just finished my final rounds for the night.'_

Jane Rizzoli: 9:19PM ' _Alibi?'_

The little 'read' symbol beneath her message informed Jane that the doctor had seen the message almost immediately, but the three grey dots indicating typing didn't light her screen until she'd leant back on the sofa and thought the silence may be a gentle rejection.

Maura Isles: 9:34PM ' _The smell of beer and bar food turns my stomach at the moment. Can I come to you?'_

The thought made her slightly uncomfortable. Maura had never stepped foot into her apartment, and the brunette wasn't sure that she wanted her to. Her fingers had a mind of their own, however.

Jane Rizzoli: 9:34PM ' _I'm at home?'_

Maura Isles: 9:35PM ' _That's alright with me, if it is with you? I can bring dinner if you haven't already eaten.'_

Her fingers betrayed her again.

Jane Rizzoli: 9:36PM ' _Absolutely, I haven't eaten. 89 Northampton Street, apartment 12. I'll see you soon.'_

Maura obviously didn't see the point of replying because Jane's phone didn't buzz again. In a whirl of panic, the detective cleaned her house with a speed that couldn't be rivalled, collecting the alarming amount of clothing strewn across the house and depositing it into the laundry hamper, and emptying the dishes from her sink into the dishwasher. It wasn't that her apartment was an utter disgrace (even if those dishes were three months old). She lived modestly and not in an awful part of town, but her mind continued making the comparison between the estate Maura was accustomed and her own personal shoe box of an apartment.

It took her a beat to remind her currently freaking out mind that Maura had a basic idea of a detective's salary and wouldn't be expecting a french chateau.

She'd just finished ferociously scrubbing splatters of tooth paste from the bathroom mirror when the buzzer rang, alerting her to Maura's arrival. Pressing the button to allow entrance downstairs, Jane waited dutifully by her front door, barricade open, and she saw a head of blonde curls appear as the doctor walked up the stairs.

"Hey, you." Jane grinned, an honest smile as she stepped aside to allow Maura to walk past the threshold of her apartment. Instead, to her surprise, the doctor paused in the doorway and placed the plastic bag full of what appeared to be Thai takeout on the ground. Her brow knitted in confusion and she was just about to voice a smart comment on Maura being allowed _past_ the threshold when the smaller woman's arms lifted and wrapped around Jane's neck. Jane froze for a beat, caught entirely off guard before coming to and allowing her own arms to encircle the doctor's petite waist.

They stood together in the doorway in a warm embrace, bodies melded together and the brunette was struck by how comfortable she found it, considering her general dislike for physical affection. Their height difference was only subtle with Jane's lack of footwear and Maura's heels and it meant the tip of her nose brushed against the blonde's temple before getting lost in silky locks.

"Hey, you." She muttered again, this time into an abundance of honey curls. Maura smelled sweet, her shampoo a concoction of fruit and floral and her perfume soft but distinct. Jane allowed herself to take it in, in its entirety for the first time while convincing herself that it was absolutely a normal thing for a friend to do.

"I'm glad you're safe," Maura breathed before stepping back, and Jane noticed a second too late that the moment had passed and the blonde was collecting the bag she'd set down in the doorway. "I bought Thai, it was the closest place to your apartment and I didn't want to arrive with cold food. I hope that's alright."

"Yeah, uh that's fine." Jane's hand disappeared under a mess of wet dark locks to rub the back of her neck. "Set it down on the coffee table and I'll grab us forks. Did you want a drink?"

The pair settled down on the sofa, Maura toeing off her heels to tuck her feet beneath her. Jane was endeared by the way someone so small could appear smaller still, while continuing to hold an air of distinction. Managing to do so with a white take out box in her lap, fork prodding the contents before giving up, was just mind boggling. Jane, comfortable in her own home, stretched her legs out on the sofa as she sat, a carton of pad Thai resting on her stomach.

"I meant to congratulate you on the closing of your case." Maura spoke as Jane was halfway through a mouthful, and had to wait for a reply.

"It's no biggie, just a part of the job." Jane shrugged, modesty very possibly a part of her genetic makeup.

"You shouldn't take away from the importance of your job, Jane."

Jane scoffed. "Says the doctor."

"I'm being serious Jane, you protect people that can't protect themselves, and you bring those who deserve it, to justice."

 _I wish you'd let me protect you,_ her mind replied. _And bring that piece of shit husband of yours to justice._

It took her a moment of puzzlement at the look on the doctors face to realise she'd unconsciously vocalised said thought.

"Maur, I'm so sorry… that was-"

"It's fine Jane, it's alright." Her voice was smooth as honey, one hand falling from cradling her carton of food to rest atop the detectives bare foot.

Jane was struck by the intimacy of the movement but took a long sip from her glass of water to clear her throat and mind. She'd wanted a beer, but didn't wish for the smell to unsettle the doctors stomach.

"I got your message, the one you sent when I was undercover. Last month." She felt uncomfortable bringing it up now, but knew the blonde should at least know that she knew.

"Oh," Maura pulled her bottom lip between two rows of pearl white teeth. "I don't know if I find that a relief or not."

"I don't know if I should be congratulating you, or apologising." It was a bold line of conversation considering the fact that it was well before their three drink limit.

Jane watched as plump lips pulled, purses and tears rimmed golden moss eyes. "I didn't want it," she mumbled. "I feel more trapped now than I did before and - _oh."_ Manicured fingers lifted to her face to carefully swipe tears from under her eyes. "I'm sorry, I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore."

"Oh Maur, hey, honey please don't cry." Jane placed her half eaten takeout container on her coffee table and sat up on her knees, liberating Maura's and dumping it next to her own. She took the doctors now empty hands into her own, thumbs tracing the soft skin of Maura's palms.

"I haven't told him yet, Ian-he suggested that I get an abortion and just move on." She sniffed at this, eyes closing as she took a deep breath. It appeared as if the lines between physical and emotion hurt were blurring.

"What do you want, Maur?" It felt like a loaded question as it left her mouth.

"I want to not be in this position anymore," her words cracked with emotion. "I can't abort it, I just-it's a _baby_. I can't do that."

Jane, whose heart felt like it was cracking with sympathy, pulled the smaller woman into her side as she sat back down properly on the sofa. It was a movement that she wouldn't have considered with anyone else, but Maura had already broken the invisible physical boundaries more than once.

"Remember when you told me how elephants raise their young, when I was freakin' out about Tommy's girlfriend being pregnant?" Jane felt Maura nod against her shoulder. "We could do that."

Maura wiped at another round of tears rolling down her cheeks as she leant back to meet her friends gaze. Such a unique mix of carob and onyx, so dark with emotion in that moment that they looked black. "What do you mean?"

"Where have you always wanted to live, but haven't?" Useless with comforting words, Jane's aim was to distract her from her sorrow, even if only momentarily.

"Oh, Lyon… in France. Being able to visit Musée des beaux-arts de Lyon or Parc de la Tête d'Or whenever I want would be wonderful."

"Right… well we could move to Lyon and buy a house big enough for you and me. And we could raise him or her, personally - and I've been thinking about this for a month - I think it will be a her, and she'll look exactly like you. And I can teach her how to speak English and how to play baseball and beat up kids that are mean to her. And you can teach her French and how to colour coordinate outfits, and make sure she gets straight A's in all her subjects." Jane's hand absently ran up and down Maura's arm as she spoke, quickly finding herself falling into the fantasy she was trying to use to distract her friend.

"We could take her on walks around Parc de la Tête d'Or together." Maura had pulled back to look at her again, and Jane delighted in the soft smile on her face. "We could take her to the zoo there and teach her about the Ankole-Watusis and Nile lechwes."

"You'll have to teach _me_ what those are first." Jane grinned at the laugh that was pulled from Maura's throat.

A silence settled over the pair, Maura's smile faltering as her head dropped back to Jane's shoulder. The blonde let out a soft sigh. "Thank you, Jane."

"Any time, Maur."

"May I ask another favour?" Her voice was shaky, unsure or still distraught, Jane couldn't decide which.

"Of course."

"Would it be alright if I stayed here tonight? Garrett is thankfully out of town for the week and… I don't want to be alone." She'd spent so much of her life alone that it felt strange to want anything different, but there in Jane's arms, she felt the right amount of safe, soothed and cared for. Maura wasn't ready to leave that behind so quickly.

"Of course, Maur. For as long as you want." She gave the blonde a gentle squeeze and silently revelled in the feeling of the other woman tucking herself just that bit closer into her.

Another breath escaped Maura's lungs, although this time it was a sigh of momentary contentment.

She was still pregnant and she was still terrified of her husband, but in that moment with Jane, she was calm.


	7. VII

**Authors Note:** I apologise for the long break. I've been reading a lot more than writing lately and it took my muse some convincing to get to this point. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and new year, and that the wait for this chapter was at _least_ mildly worth it.

* * *

She'd never hated Garrett Fairfield. Not when he'd first hit her and apologised with flowers and a diamond tennis bracelet - as if _things_ would heal the bruises faster. Not when he'd cheated on her and made no great effort to hide it. Not even when he'd broken her bones with his bare hands. But laying there, cool gel spread across the expanse of a flat stomach, ultrasound wand exploring her skin, Maura felt comfortable confessing the pure hatred she held for her husband. Of course not aloud, and the second the rhythmic sound of the quick thump-thump of her foetus' heartbeat filled the small room, the feeling had fleeted. A baby swept the hatred away as quickly as it had produced it. Their baby.

She felt an inexplicable wave of love.

Maura didn't think he'd ever hurt their child. She'd seen him dote on his niece, held her small body in his powerful arms for the first time and _wept_. He had a right to the foetus growing in her womb. Her rational mind also knew the statistics though, knew that ninety percent of children from homes of domestic violence witness the abuse, and that those children often display behavioural, somatic or emotional problems similar to those who have been abused. She knew that witnessing abuse could result in developmental delays in infants, post traumatic stress disorder and depression in children. She knew that one in three teenagers who witnessed domestic abuse were likely to be victims or perpetrators of teen dating violence.

Their baby… _her_ baby.

The anger came back, but this time it was directed at herself. How dare she even entertain the thought that it could all work _?_ How dare she gamble the safety and healthy development of her child in hopes that, _what_ \- they could be a happy family? Maura had long since lost the desire to provide a home that she herself had never had - a mother and father clearly in love, children that were joyous and involved in their parents lives. Maura, an attentive and caring mother.

How attentive and caring could she be when she lived in fright of angering her husband. When she lived with the constant and unpredictable risk of black eyes and broken bones?

The answer, Maura quickly calculated to the sound of her baby's heartbeat, was that she couldn't.

The concern? Her capability of being an attentive and caring mother at all.

Motherhood had never been something she'd held the strong desire to obtain. As a child she had quietly fantasised about being a mommy of course, of having a baby that looked like her and needed her, but as she grew, too did her innate fear that she'd be as distant of a mother as her own. That the natural inability to nurture wasn't one she'd been blessed with. And it wasn't an unreasonable concern; without a viable role model to follow – and viable role model her mother was _not_ – being a mom would be something she'd fail spectacularly. She'd barely been able to relate to children when she'd _been_ one, how could she possibly do so twenty-something years later?

Her marriage had also only amplified those concerns. Garrett had been so wonderful and loving and was everything she'd supposed a father should be, but things had changed since their wedding, _he_ had changed. Her home life had become volatile, like walking through a live minefield, always the threat that she'd step on something particularly touchy, she'd hear the click and everything would explode. Maura had become so violently opposed to the idea of bringing a child into her life, one that had become as devoid of love as quickly as it had blossomed with it.

The quick echo of the foetus' heart beat and the train of her thought sent her stomach lurching, and Maura rolled slightly with the movement of her stomach and promptly delivered her lunch over the side of the exam bed.

"Oh _God,_ I am so sorry!" It came out a mortified squeak as she sat up, the technician having already snatched away her hand and subsequently the ultrasound wand to protect it from the mess.

"It's alright Ms. Isles, really. It happens more often than you'd think," the petite blonde woman was gracious as she stood and carefully sidestepped the remnants of Maura's lunch. "Let me go get you some water, and someone to clean up."

The sound of her maiden name rang in her ears and her stomach flipped again, although this time the honey blonde caught the bile in her throat. She'd given her old name when she'd made the appointment, but why she wasn't quite sure. _Anonymity!_ her mind had demanded, but honestly Maura was sure she'd already unconsciously made the decision to leave her life as a Fairfield behind.

"Thank you, _thank you_ ," her mind searched haphazardly for the name the technician had provided her with at the beginning of the consultation. "Penny, again I am so sorry, I don't know what overcame me, please let me clean it up."

She'd never been marvellous with social interaction. A side effect of the benign neglect of her childhood, she suspected.

Her stomach heaved again, this time dry. _Benign neglect_ , was that all she knew how to provide her own child?

"We'll clean it up, safety regulations - you understand. And it's perfectly alright, sometimes all of this can come as a bit of a shock?" The inflection suggested a question more than a statement, as if she was giving Maura the opportunity to vomit her words and anxieties instead of her last meal.

The honey blonde could only nod, a succession of quick bobs as if to say she couldn't possibly agree more. Her stomach didn't enjoy the dizzying movement.

Penny reappeared first with a glass of water that tasted bitter on Maura's tongue and a sympathetic smile.

"Would you like a printed picture of today's scan before you leave?" The question was formed timidly, as if Penny were cautious of eliciting another violent response from Maura's digestive system.

"No!" Was Maura's immediate response. It was said too loudly and far too quickly, but the honey blonde had already come to two conclusions. One: that she didn't wish for Garrett to know about her situation. Two: that in order to keep it hidden, she couldn't carry any evidence of it. "No, thank you. I'm so sorry again, for the mess."

Never in her life had those been her departing words. _Sorry for the mess._ The mess she'd made and the mess she was. She was sorry for all of it.

Maura had cleared her work schedule the day of her ultrasound, but she'd regretted doing so the moment she stepped from the doctor's office. Suddenly everything felt very raw and gaping with possibilities, so many plausible and implausible scenarios for her future that her head spun and she actually felt dizzy. Fresh air and some time to herself to think without the threat of interruption from her husband was what she needed, and subsequently was how she ended standing in the central burying ground of Boston common. Early March had provided the drying of snow and gentle rain, and while the sun had managed to find its way from behind grey clouds, the breeze still held the harsh reminder of winter. So much so that she pulled her coat tighter as her heeled boots left small divots in the grass.

For her, there was something soothing about death. Not the looming possibility of it or the nothingness she was sure that followed, but the quiet peace of being surrounded by people that didn't push her. It was morbid she knew, but felt comforting as she walked and tried to piece together the fractures of her life into a tangible plan.

Even with all of her intellectual prowess and acute common sense, she'd not gotten very far when her phone buzzed in her pocket. There was a moment of panic before she realised that Garrett was spending his day with his brother looking over business plans and wouldn't have the thought to message her.

It was Jane's name that brightened her screen, and also Maura's disposition. She answered without hesitation, pressing the device to her ear as the wind numbed the tips of her fingers.

"Maura Isles speaking," was her formal greeting, although she was well aware of who was calling.

"Hey, it's Jane. Your appointment is done, right? How'd it go?" The voice that travelled through the speaker was deep and rough, husky as if she had a sore throat and it pained her to speak. Maura had likde the sound from the moment she'd heard it, so uncommon and yet characteristically Jane.

"It was awful, I vomited on the technician and found out I'm fourteen weeks pregnant." She almost added that she thought she'd decided to leave Garrett in that appointment too - before she'd thrown up. It felt too final to say aloud though.

"You threw up on the guy doing your ultrasound?" There was humour in her tone, she suspected put there to try cheer her up. Before Maura had a chance to reply, Jane hurried on with, "what are you doing now?"

"It was a female - the technician who performed my ultrasound. Her name was Penny." The honey blonde expelled a sigh as the heels of her boots cut through the soft flesh of the cemetery lawn. "I'm walking aimlessly around Boston Common, the graveyard there, anyway."

"The graveyard?" A beat, a miniscule pause before Jane continued as if she didn't really need an answer to her question. Maura, cemeteries. Perhaps it made sense to the brunette. "Want some aimless company?"

"That would be lovely, but aren't you at work?" She sat as she spoke, inspecting the damage the grass and soil had done to the points of her heels.

"Nah, BPD has a baseball team that I've been recruited to and we have our first game this afternoon." Maura heard the flicker of enthusiasm in Jane's tone and smiled softly at it. "It's at 2:30 at the ball field at Boston Common… I can join you on your aimless walk and then you can come watch the game if you want?"

The last part of her suggestion was laced with uncertainty and Maura supposed she didn't present as someone who may enjoy sporting activities.

"That would be lovely, so long as it doesn't put you out Jane."

"Great!" Surprise, she could hear it in the detective's voice. As if she'd been expecting a gentle rejection. "I'll be there in ten… I'll bring tea seeing as how you can't have coffee anymore."

Jane had been true to her word in that she'd arrived near ten minutes later with a disposable coffee cup filled with green tea that burnt the palms of Maura's hands to hold. Her smile was also warm in contrast to the cool breeze, of which Jane didn't appear to feel because she was dressed already in a white shirt with red three quarter length sleeves and 'BOSTON VICE' printed across her chest. It was accompanied with black workout shorts and sneakers that had seen better days, Maura thought. She looked charming and wild, raven curls pulled haphazardly into a ponytail and face clear of makeup.

They moved from the cemetery to the walking track, Maura's heels creating a steady melody against the pavement. Jane allowed them silence, had noted the tight pull of the blondes brow and sensed that while her company was appreciated, there were a lot of thoughts taking precedent. It was seven minutes before Maura broke what Jane had allowed her, the quietness.

"Do you remember the first night we met at the Alibi, when I told you I could see myself marrying a woman?"

"Uh- yeah?" In truth, Jane had pondered over that statement for weeks, months even.

"You told me that you could see a future for yourself too, with a woman?" Maura's tone wasn't intrusive or probing, but laced instead with a curiosity that kept her mind from all the other thoughts.

Jane took some time to answer, because it had been hard to admit even with a few drinks under her belt. So long in fact, that Maura continued.

"You don't have to answer, if it's too personal a question."

"No, no-" Jane rushed over the end of Maura's sentence, a smile pulling at her lips despite the anxiety taking residence in the pit of her stomach. "I mean, _yeah_. I remember saying that."

"Did you mean it?" More curiosity, and the pull of Maura's brow had loosened.

"Uh… yes, yeah I think I did."

"You've never said it aloud before, have you?" The doctor stopped walking and observed her companion. Watched as a shiver tickled down her spine, but despite the cold, Maura thought it was born of something else.

Jane stopped in her tracks too, not enjoying that she was now forced to meet an interested hazel gaze. The topaz specks she'd noted the first time they'd met, lit by the dancing shadows of the fireplace in her den.

"I don't think I've ever even _thought_ on it too long," Jane laughed nervously, open palm running down the back of her neck under the waterfall of messy curls. "I mean, you've met my ma. We're catholic, _very_ _catholic_. I don't think I've let myself entertain any possibilities like that before, and I've definitely never had anyone to tell them to."

"You told me." The brunette couldn't decide if it was a question or a statement as the caramel sweet tone seemed to lay somewhere in between.

"I did." It felt like an intimate confession, more so than what she'd admitted that night at the Alibi and her words were unintentionally hushed.

Maura began walking again, and it took Jane a second of compartmentalization to fall in step.

"For me, I don't think it's just because my experience with men has been less than savoury. I dated a woman in my first year of college before I met Garrett. She was older than me, a PA for my anatomy class and I was so _intrigued_ by her. She was beautiful and intelligent and more sensual than any man I'd ever met."

It was easier for Jane to let questions spill from her lips when they weren't facing each other, but rather focused on their path ahead.

"Did you sleep with her?" Quiet, like it was a sin to even _discuss_ it.

"Quite a few times, yes." The blonde was unapologetically honest, as if the concept of finding shame in her past was outlandish. Jane liked that.

"Did you-did you _enjoy_ it?" Quieter still.

"The sex? Of course. My assumption is that you've never slept with a woman?" Her tone wasn't taunting or judgemental in the slightest, just matter-of-fact and Jane wasn't sure why she found that more confronting.

"No uh-no… I've kissed one though. Once. In middle school."

"Oh?" The knowledge piqued Maura's interest. She'd thought after that night at the Alibi that Jane was closeted, and securely at that. When she'd mentioned having a religious family, it had made sense and also evened the playing field somehow for her. Maura was a victim of domestic abuse, and Jane was closeted because of a bigoted family.

"Yeah… It was just a peck really and I felt _so_ guilty after it. I think I've always felt it though-an attraction, I guess? I had a crush on my high school geometry teacher, she was young and pretty and just-she handled all the douche-bros with so much dignity, ya know? It took me a while to realise it was more than admiration." Jane stumbled over her truth, a point that Maura found rather endearing.

"It's nothing you should feel shame for. I understand that the church you were raised in condemns homosexuality, but it preaches from the same book that also doesn't condone the wear of jewellery or the absence of facial hair on men. Leviticus 19:27 reads ' _neither shalt thou mar the corners of thy beard.'_ I wouldn't think all catholic men have beards."

"I know you're right," Jane sighed. "And it's not that I _don't_ like men too, just not as much as my mom hopes, I guess."

"You deserve to be happy, Jane. You shouldn't have to sacrifice that for the spiritual satisfaction of your family."

It was Jane's turn to pause in her track and Maura took a further two steps before she realised they were no longer walking together. She frowned as she turned, confused.

"I'm sorry, did I say something to offend you? I'm not very good at-"

"No, you didn't offend me. Just, I wish we could both take your advice, ya know? You must get sick of hearing it, but you shouldn't be living in a marriage that isn't safe. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your safety."

Maura moved closer, closing the gap between them as if the smaller the distance, the smaller the impact of the words she could feel about to race from her lips.

"I gave them my maiden name at my ultrasound appointment… I told them I was Maura Isles even if I don't remember _how_ to be her, and I think I made the decision to leave Garrett."

"Hey," Jane ran open palms up and down the length of the doctors arms. "You've always been Maura Isles to me."

The sincere and almost childlike smile that decorated plump lips was honestly the most beautiful thing Jane Rizzoli had ever seen.

"Thank you Jane, really."

"Anytime Maur. Now you ready to come watch me kick some drug unit ass?!" She bounced with a youthful smirk, jogging a few paces backward in order to face the doctor, who, was desperately trying to conceal a smirk of her own.

"You're awfully confident." She remarked, keeping her pace leisurely so that Jane had to jog on the spot to avoid being outside earshot.

"Yeah, because I'm the best." It was said with the same inflection as an extended 'duh' and

Maura raised manicured brows with a silent, 'we'll see.'

As it turned out, even given her limited baseball knowledge, Jane was a remarkable player. Maura had never doubted the physical shape she was in, evident every time she paid close attention to the ripple of strong muscles under smooth skin. She was fast, dark wild curls knotted as they flew behind her when she ran, and a steady grip on the bat saw muscles clench with a deft swing and substantial hit to the ball. For someone that had never held a particularly keen interest in sport, Maura enjoyed herself immensely and she told Jane so as they walked back to their cars.

"It was clearly me," Jane bragged, on the high of winning the game. "I'm very interesting to watch."

If it hadn't held a tone of amusement and the suggestion of a joke, Maura would have thought she were being flirted with.

"I won't argue with that, you're a very talented sportswoman."

"You sound surprised." Jane accused as they reached Maura's silver Prius. A car she'd relentlessly made fun of her for, for first four months they'd known each other.

"Not at all. Your athletic frame suggests regular training and a sporting prowess, it's really quite impressive."

Jane kicked the toe of her shoe over the asphalt of the parking lot, choosing to ignore the compliment. "On a serious note though Maur, you know when you decide to leave Garrett, I'll be here to help right? You won't have to do it on your own, you just gotta call."

"I appreciate that Jane, and I appreciate you."

Their goodbye was said in the form of a hug, the kind that ended with an extra squeeze as if they needed the reminder that the other was real and present. It was Jane's least favourite part of their time together, the end.

As she walked back toward her own car, the same daunting feel settled over her. Their goodbye wasn't just an end to their time together, it was the end of Jane's trust in her best friends safety.

Until the odds worked in their favour and they were allowed a next time, anyway.


	8. VIII

' _Please help'_

It's the text message that vibrated Jane's phone across the bedside table - an upturned cardboard box - of her halfway house and had her breaking the cover she'd assumed three weeks ago.

* * *

For Maura, not having contact with Jane on a weekly basis had become an issue. Out of nowhere, the detective had become her silent saving grace and the presence that kept her grounded. It felt scandalous to feel that way, to rely so heavily on someone who had only recently offered their friendship and for that reason, Maura kept her newfound dependance quiet. Jane had mentioned her newest case and the fact she'd be required to go undercover and the doctor had nodded her head with a soft smile and requested nothing more than the promised safety of her friend. Jane had obliged with a lopsided smile and an exaggerated eye roll and then quietly left her the number to her burner cell in case of emergency.

The silent understanding being that emergency meant any violent outbursts from her husband.

Garrett had remained reasonably calm in the three week gap where Jane had been absent from her life and for Maura it had halted the mental progress toward leaving her marriage. She supposed that things had been going well for him at work, that he was set to take over the family business like had been agreed and he could finally take a seat at the proverbial throne of the Fairfield fortune. In fact, Maura couldn't recall seeing him in a better mindset and life for her at home had been remarkably easy.

It made her resolve weaker, even though she'd been so _sure_ she was going to leave. Perhaps, all he needed was to get his life on track and the abuse would stop?

She'd also started a journal, graphically depicting the nights in which his anger rained down on her like a ferocious storm. At first Maura couldn't decipher why she'd felt such an urge to do so, and then she realised she had because deep down, she thought she was going to die in that house. She thought he would kill her, and she wanted there to be evidence.

The Thursday night he had come home intoxicated beyond belief and slung a closed fist in her direction. His slowed reflexes allowed her to dodge the attack though and said fist went through the wall of the den and Garrett didn't move from the floor beside the fireplace where he had promptly passed out. Maura had detailed the events in her journal and then wracked her brain in bed that night, trying to understand what could have changed to allow for such a shift in behaviour.

The personality of Garrett Fairfield was beyond her, though.

By Friday morning he was back in reasonable spirits and a pot plant had been moved to cover the crater he'd made in the wall. When she'd left for work he'd given her a kiss and a grin that reminded Maura of the adage 'the cat who ate the canary'. It had been unsettling and a detail she hadn't been able to let slip from her mind for the remainder of the day.

She left work early, nausea twisting her stomach until the fear of throwing up on a patient became more a reality than a mere possibility. Garrett had told her earlier that morning that he possibly wouldn't be home until Saturday evening as he had business meetings to attend and would be staying out of town. Maura had taken that as he'd arranged a hotel room to spend the night with his mistress, Sumner's wife and her sister-in-law, and would come home whenever pleased him. It hadn't bothered her in the slightest, in fact the knowledge that Garrett had another woman to take his attention was a comforting fact for Maura, because it meant when he was busy with her, she was afforded peace and safety in her own home. She wrote about that in her journal too.

When she pulled into the drive and saw her husbands car parked in front of the garage, she turned the music down low and rolled to a silent stop. He'd never brought a mistress home before, and if he was in there alone it meant he'd been stood up and would most definitely be drunk and furious. Her mind told her to pull back out and leave, to go back to work and find sleep in the on-call room. Maura's body ignored all rational thought though and before she had a moment to stop herself, she'd stepped from the car and walked cautiously to the front door.

It was unlocked and the door pushed open without the turn of the handle or much applied force. The foyer was an absolute mess, the vase to the left shattered porcelain pieces across the marble tiles and crunched roses scattered transparent and bruised petals. There was red too, droplets of blood staining the entrance and a low groan broke the silence and made Maura jump. At the bottom of the stairs was her brother-in-law, Adam Fairfield, hunched and bloody like he'd lost a fight with a boxer. She gasped, made a silent move toward him to check his pulse when his head snapped up and their eyes met.

"Adam, oh my God." She breathed, and his gaze went from staring at her to straight through her. Maura frowned and crouched, the intention to check the rhythm of his pulse pulling her fingers to his neck, but before she could follow through, fingers knotted in her hair and pulled hard.

Maura landed on her back with a noise somewhere between a gasp and scream and then Garrett was standing over her, shirt spotted with the blood of his brother.

"You've always had the worst possible timing, Maura." He growled and for once, Maura felt like he didn't _want_ to hurt her. She'd surprised him and he hadn't been allowed the time to formulate anger at her.

"Garrett… Garrett-what are you doing?" Her words came out ragged, the sharp intake of breath catching her words in her throat.

"Now isn't the time for questions." The anger was there this time, a flash through handsome eyes and she scattered backward as best she could. A shard of porcelain caught her forearm, sliced through her flesh with the ease of a scalpel blade and Maura yelped as Garrett pulled her to her feet and forced her against the wall.

"Garrett, _please_." Her voice was small and pleading; desperate. He was desperate too, she realised. He was on the proverbial doorstep of a double homicide, of which only one he had apparently planned for.

It wasn't the first time Maura Fairfield had feared for her life, but it was the only time she felt death was the singular way her night was going to end.

"You just had to butt in, like you couldn't _help_ _yourself_!" Garrett gritted out from between rows of pearly white teeth, his hand gripping her neck and using it to pin her against the wall. The other, his right and dominant hand delivered one, two, three swift but deafening punches to her side.

When she felt her cheeks go red and her eyes begin to water, he released his grip and she crumbled as if her legs had lost all muscle tone. She managed to maneuver herself onto all fours and her arms shook as she made a move for the front door. Maura made it four paces, a feat that felt as if it took all her strength but a boot collided with her shoulder and her hands, slick with her own blood, slipped beneath her and sent her face striking the marble flooring.

Maura's head throbbed as she lay sprawled in the foyer, cheek glued to the tile and she blinked hard to clear the spots obscuring her vision. She felt strands of messy curls knot with her lashes as her gaze found Adam. He was still hunched against the wall, staring hard back at her.

She didn't hold an intention to try and move, but before she could have, Adam was back on his feet and hurling straight toward her.

Only it wasn't her he was aiming for, but the man directly behind her. Startled, Maura curled up and turned, eyes meeting the ferocious hazel orbs of her husband.

Adam's fist connected with Garrett's stomach hard enough to knock the wind from him and make him stumble backward and Maura was on her feet and limping up the grand staircase as best she could, fear enveloping her like an icy breeze.

' _Please help'_ was the message she typed with shaking hands and numb fingertips, an illogical thing to do without the guarantee that Jane would even see the message. But she sent it anyway and closed the bedroom door as the fight escalated downstairs. She was caught between ' _call the police!_ ' and ' _don't let him hear you!_ '

The fear of being heard won out.

Her heart was thumping, ricocheting from the bones of her rib cage and her vision near blurred with fear. Downstairs she could hear struggling, the telltale sound of bodies wrestling walls and furniture as the two men fought. Her breath came in short, quick bursts and she tried to steady it as she leant against the bedroom door. Blood ran down her forearm and along her open palm, dripping from limp fingers and the sound of the soft ' _pat pat_ ' of the droplets falling onto the carpet rang in her ears.

There was a loud crack downstairs, the sound of something hard hitting bone and splintering it and then silence. It felt like everything had happened so quickly, but the time on her watch told her she'd been home for over two hours.

Had she lost consciousness while standing against the door of the guest room? The message she'd sent to Jane, which hadn't been replied to, was sent forty eight minutes ago.

She felt sick with fear when she realised the absence of sound most likely meant one of the men wouldn't be getting back up.

Her body rang with pain as she stepped back from the bedroom door upon recognising the sound of Garrett's heavy footfalls on the staircase. _He's killed Adam!_ Her mind screamed as she scrambled backwards, bloody hands searching behind her back for the handle of the closet door. Sheer terror wouldn't allow her to tear her eyes from the entry point, the only thing that seperated her now from the real possibility of death.

"Mau-rah," it was sing-song and tormenting and carried on the back of Garrett's steps.

Maura pulled open the wardrobe door and shuffled back into the small space until her back connected with the wall.

"Com'on Maura, don't hide. You know I have a right to the family business, you _know_ Adam wasn't really a Fairfield."

Nimble fingers shook as she pulled the door shut behind her, holding her breath and praying that the hinges didn't squeak.

"I had to do it, for _us!_ You may have your money, but mine was drying up without the family business. And they were going to give it to _him_ ––to someone without a drop of Fairfield blood?! It was unjust!"

Maura drew knees to her chest, ignoring the flash of pain through her chest. Her cuticles were caked with dried blood - her own blood - and the split in her lip left a metallic taste in her mouth.

"It'll look like an accident. I'm going to take him out on his boat and push him over–no one will know. But Mau-rah, I need to know you're going to keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut."

Her breathing was laboured, through pain and fear that if she made anymore noise, he'd find her. She should have left. _God damn it, she should have left!_

"Come on out sweetheart, I'm not going to hurt you anymore." Garrett crooned, and Maura could hear him searching through a room four doors down from where she was curled.

She wished she knew whether Jane had seen her message, the thought sprang tears to her eyes that she allowed to fall.

She wished she'd called the police when her husband was still downstairs.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be Maura."

Maura could feel her body shaking, felt a shiver run up the column of her spine. Her arms tightened the hold they had on her knees, the added pressure making the pain scream through her frame.

"We're going to have everything Maura, don't make this har-" There was another thump that cut Garrett off mid-sentence, a body hammered to a wall and Maura briefly wondered if Adam had gotten back up and followed her husband.

She felt dizzy, nauseous and found herself wondering why this needed to be drawn out any longer. Garrett was going to kill both her and Adam, and use his brother's boat to dispose of their bodies out at sea.

The doctor wanted the reprieve and finality of the end, even if that meant being murdered by her husband.

"Maura?!" The familiar voice cut through her thoughts and an audible sob left the doctor's mouth in relief.

"Jane?" Her voice cracked, her mind trying hard to convince her that it was all a trick and when the doors to the closet was yanked open and light washed over her, she flinched in anticipation of Garrett's fists.

"Maur? _Oh God-Maura!_ " The detective fell to her knees and Maura crumpled forward into her awaiting arms with a cry of pain and alleviation. Jane caught her on instinct, Maura's face burrowing in her shoulder and for a second all she could do was sob.

"I think he killed Adam, I think he killed his brother." It came out a fractured scream, shock burning her nerves as Jane fell back with her friend wrapped in her arms.

"Shh, Maur it's over, it's _over_."

"I think he killed his brother Jane, I think he killed my baby." It came out with a cry, like the adrenaline had faded just enough to allow for a sharp ripple of pain. It took Jane a second to realise what Maura was referring to, a moment of watching the doctor look in shock at her own bloody hands and the drooling wound that spanned the length of her forearm.

Maura mumbled a few incoherent words, body softening and eyes roving the detectives face without actually seeing her. She looked confused and terrified.

"We need a medic in here!" Jane screamed. She tried to keep Maura's attention as the other woman's eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp in her bestfriends arms.

"Send up a _fucking_ medic!"

* * *

 **Authors Note:** I didn't want to spoil anything by putting this at the top, but I think it's reasonable to conclude that the end of the Fairfield marriage is within grasping distance. Any mistakes are mine, I didn't re-read this and it is significantly shorter than most of the other chapters.

Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews, they've helped get me back with an update quicker than usual!


	9. IX

**Authors note:** Thank you for the endless support and reviews this story has received. We're no where near the end, I hope you all decide to continue on this crazy ride with me.

* * *

 _Garrett,_

 _I wish I didn't have to write this down, I wish I didn't have to be frightened of your imposed consequences for saying any of this aloud and to your face. I wish a lot of things, sometimes I wish I'd never met you._

 _I don't know if I'm angry right now, or if I'm just broken. I feel like a shell of my former self, like you've beaten out of me my individuality and my will to fight for a better future. You isolated me, made me feel like an adulterer for keeping in contact with friends from college and med school, you made me feel like I was being unfaithful to you by interacting on a_ _ **professional level**_ _with my superiors and teachers. It happened so quickly and so slowly, like I blinked and suddenly I had no contact with friends or family and it was just you._

 _You made sure that all I had was you._

 _I_ _ **am**_ _angry, angry that you took everyone from my life and still saw it reasonable to beat me to a bloody pulp. There was that time just after New Years Eve, remember? When we had that gala at your parents house and you fought with Sumner about Jocelyn, and when we got home you broke my clavicle and you made me lie at the hospital and tell them I was intoxicated and fell down the staircase. Two days later you bought me an emerald ring and told me you were sorry - do you really think that makes it better? It makes it worse, it makes me feel like I'm selling you my body to use as a punching bag, to use as a sex object and that jewellery is an appropriate payment._

 _I think if you had it your way, I'd never leave the house and I wouldn't cry after you strangled me or raped me. It's still rape even if we're married, I think you forget that._

 _That night the police came to our house, I want you to know I didn't make the call. I'm terrified of you when you're in that state and I'm not naive enough to believe a domestic assault charge will force you to change. I still don't understand why that switch had to flick, why you changed so quickly and so dramatically after we got married. I thought marriage was supposed to revolve around love and trust, and Garrett I haven't trusted you since our wedding ceremony._

 _I think I've stopped loving you too, although I think I'm too scared to let that love go completely. Maybe you'd see the disdain in my eyes and finish what you started two weeks after our honeymoon._

 _Sometimes I just want to stand on the edge of a cliff and scream 'you don't own me' until my throat is raw. Sometimes, I wish you'd be there to hear it._

 _You don't own me, Garrett Fairfield. No matter how many times you leave your fingerprints on my skin or leave our history in my broken bones. I hope I find the courage to leave you before you kill me._

 _Maura._

They made her read it aloud in court, the last of her journal entries, seated in the stand where every member of the twelve person jury could see her. The assistant district attorney prosecuting the case had made her change her outfit twice, her usual fitted dress was exchanged for a charcoal skirt that finished at her knees and wasn't too tight, with a pale pink blouse. ' _It'll make you look soft and feminine_ ' she'd said ' _You'll look like a victim, and it'll make them believe you weren't in on it too._ '

No jewellery, because she wasn't supposed to flash her wealth. They'd even made her take off her strand of pearls.

Maura felt naked, sitting there and reading aloud thoughts and feelings she'd never meant to vocalise. It was supposed to help support her claims that Garrett was an abusive husband, but she'd wished desperately that they could have just used a full body x-ray to reveal the healed physical wounds. The emotional trauma felt too personal to share, especially when she could feel the disbelieving gaze of jurors boring holes into her.

"Why didn't you leave, if Garrett was as aggressive as you claim?" Was the accusation pointed at her by the defence team.

"I was scared," was all Maura could answer, swallowing a lump in her throat that made it difficult to breathe. "I thought he'd kill me if I tried to leave."

"You claim that you were scared that he'd kill you if you _stayed_. What's the difference?"

Maura squared her shoulders, pursed her lips and exhaled slowly. "Better the devil you know, I think is the turn of phrase."

"Better the devil you know?" The lawyer repeated, said like he was testing the words out on his tongue. "Better to stay and allegedly be abused, than chance freedom. I wouldn't have thought so."

"Objection, your honour!" The prosecution spoke over the tail end of Garrett's lawyer spiel, as if he'd spoken a word that triggered her outburst. "Conjecture!"

Before the judge could rule, the defence lawyer took a step back with both hands in front of his chest, palms open and a charming smile on his face. "That's all, your honour."

* * *

She hadn't cried, not when Adam had been pronounced dead at the scene, not when Garrett had screamed after her retreating figure that he'd kill her too if she said a word. Not even when the doctors had found the rapid but steady ' _thump thump_ ' of her baby's heartbeat. It was as if she'd been held in a permanent state of prolonged shock and if she allowed herself to crumble early, she wouldn't be able to piece herself together in time to get through the necessary things she had to. At the end of the ninth day of trial though, after she'd been questioned and accused over and over by the defence lawyer, her neatly varnished facade cracked.

It cracked when Jane hugged her fiercely outside of the courthouse, it cracked when Angela Rizzoli delivered bunny shaped pancakes to her hotel room because it was the only way she knew how to help a woman she barely knew, and it cracked when Jane whispered 'I love you' in her ear.

Maura understood that it wasn't love in the romantic sense, but those three words directed at her were her metaphorical undoing, like the thread was cut at the seam of her composure and everything was free to spill out.

"Oh, Maur." Jane had mumbled, pulling the doctor into another firm hug.

"I just wish it could be over, Jane. I thought I'd feel free but I feel more trapped than ever." Her words jumbled with her sobs, tears burning tracks down her cheeks and carving paths through her makeup.

"I know sweetheart, but it's almost over. He'll be convicted for murdering his brother and you _will_ be free."

"God, what do I tell his child? How can I bring a baby into this mess?" The thought freed more tears from the corners of her eyes, eyes that still shone that marvelous mixture of lagoon green and gold that Jane had noticed the first time they'd met.

"You tell _your_ child that you saved both of you by leaving and bringing Garrett to justice. You tell _your_ child that regardless of who their father is, they aren't destined to be bad and that they are in charge of what kind of person they become." Jane pulled back momentarily to run the pads of her thumbs under Maura's eyes, collecting rolling tears.

"I don't know if I'm strong enough for this, Jane."

"You're strong enough for anything, Mo. For absolutely anything."

"Can you stay... again?" The question was timid, as if it was alarming that she should need any more support. Jane had been there, every night since she'd pulled her from the small confides of that guest bedroom closet.

Unbeknownst to Maura, Jane would be there for as long as she needed her to be, and then some.

"For as long as you want me, Maur."

 _For as long as you want me._ That become their new subtly.

* * *

It took her two weeks post release from the hospital to sell the house she'd shared with her husband - for a steal really, although considering the recent murder anyone prone to superstition wouldn't be so sure. It took her significantly longer to make a decision regarding her new living arrangements however. With the trial continuing - albeit slowly, she'd felt - and the sale of her home and almost everything found in it, it all felt overwhelmingly final. Maura was grateful to be free of Garrett's influence, but in a way it had shaken her too. She didn't feel the relief everyone told her she'd feel, didn't feel freedom and choice but rather a stressful expectation to move on with her life as quickly as possible without a mournful moment for what she'd lost.

He'd murdered his brother for money, and he'd beaten her to a bloody pulp more times than she could count on fingers, but it was still terrifying and soul-wrenching to say goodbye to everything she knew. She'd still _lost_ something.

Jane had been the unyielding patience, the proverbial angel on her shoulder that soothed her through all of those impossible moments without a second thought. She'd graciously offered her guest bedroom when Maura voiced her reluctance at buying her own home, and the doctor had been fluttering between the hotel room still being charged to her credit card, and the double bed in Jane's small apartment. And it was _small_ , smaller than anywhere Maura had ever inhabited, smaller than her suite at the hotel, but the sparse distance between parallel walls was an odd comfort she'd never felt before. The wardrobe built into the wall opposite the foot of her bed struggled to contain a mere fraction of her clothing, to which Jane had endlessly mocked as she'd helped her unpack.

Maura supposed it must have been what having friends in childhood was like. Slumber parties and movie nights on the couch in comfortable clothing. And God, was Maura Isles the most comfortable she'd been in her life, in that cramped little apartment with a woman who had against all odds and personality differences, become her best friend.

She was painfully aware that she'd be dead, if it weren't for the detective. A debt that she could never possibly repay.

It was a concept that had been ruminating in the back of her mind all day and was responsible for the dazed expression on her face that had Jane frowning.

"You alright there, Maur?" She asked, tone laced with concern as she slumped down on the sofa with a beer clasped in one hand.

Her voice drew Maura back, who shook her head as if to expel her train of thought. "Oh, yes. I just got lost for a minute, I think." The honey blonde turned as she spoke, a soft smile pulling at her mouth.

"Hey, don't get too lost in there. It's my night to pick a movie, and we're watching Terminator!" The detective smirked, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table and settling into the worn cushions of the sofa.

"It seems like there are going to be numerous plot holes," Maura hummed, putting down the empty DVD case after reading the summary.

"Plot holes, shmot holes Mo. This is action packed at its finest." The child-like excitement was endlessly endearing.

Maura decided she disagreed with Jane halfway through the movie, but kept said opinion to herself in favour of resting her head against her friends shoulder. There was something about the way they curled together on the sofa like they'd been doing it for half their lives that made Maura wonder as to how platonic their relationship ran. She didn't have a catalogue of friendships to compare it to however, and the brunette had never once made a comment or expression that indicated that the way they behaved was out of the ordinary.

It struck Maura that if it was what most friendships were like, she didn't think she'd like to experience it with anyone else. The level of comfort she felt around Jane was unsettling in a way that was new to her - it was equal parts soothing and anxiety-provoking to allow your guard down so completely.

The doctor wasn't sure what pulled her from her thoughts first - the explosion that boomed from the television speakers, or the movement she felt flutter across her stomach. It startled her so that she jumped and Jane looked down to her in surprise.

"How did _that_ make you jump but the scene where-" She didn't get a chance to finish, interrupted by the surprised squeak of the blonde leaning against her side.

"The baby just… I think I just felt a kick." Moss green eyes looked up to dark brown ones, searching for the same level of shock and wonderment that she felt.

Jane's opportunity to reply was cut short when Maura grabbed her hand and covered it with her own, palm flat on the subtle round of her stomach. Beneath her fingertips, Jane felt a flutter of nudges as if something was rolling beneath her hands.

"Oh my God, Maur." Came Jane's delayed and hushed reply, overwhelmed with the thought that she'd just felt the first noticeable movement of an unborn baby, of Maura's unborn baby. A wide smile spread across her face as she looked down to meet her friends gaze. "That's your baby."

Time stood still for two reasons. The first being that Maura felt like she was on the brink of one of those major transitional life moments for no particular reason.

The second being that she couldn't fathom what possibly possessed her to lean up, her hand still covering Jane's over her own stomach, and softly press her lips against those of her best friend.

She kissed Jane, soft and chaste but in a way that couldn't be interpreted as platonic.

It froze time, and it was a mistake.


End file.
